


Moments

by brightlycoloredteacups



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2018-11-18 17:31:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 24,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11295372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightlycoloredteacups/pseuds/brightlycoloredteacups
Summary: Ivar is your sugar daddy, these are the moments that make your relationship.





	1. Just One Moment

            Being Ivar Lothbrok’s Sugar Baby had its perks. The nice house, the nice car, great sex. The best part was, he wasn’t that demanding. His reputation for being petulant and needy were, you supposed, true at one point. You’d never gotten the brunt of it, however. Maybe because you had become his Sugar Baby after he turned forty and calmed down. Whatever the case, the entire experience had been delightful over all.

            There was a contract in the beginning, he encouraged you to look over thoroughly. It outlined what he expected of you. It seemed daunting at first, showing up with him at parties or family dinners. Having sex with him wasn’t an option, you either did or you didn’t get the money. You appreciated his forwardness about it all. You hadn’t felt pressured into the situation. It had been more of a ‘this is what it will be, feel free to decline or accept’. Like a business contract.

            You were worried at first, that he was going to be into some things you weren’t comfortable with. You found out very quickly that the things he enjoyed, you enjoyed too. Being bound and gagged and fucked mercilessly was most definitely your kink.

            You were currently in his closet, looking for a suit for him to wear. “How about this one?” You ask him. You walk out to show him, holding it up. “You always looked rather handsome in black.” You look at him, seeing his face. “Ivar?” You call quietly. He doesn’t respond. You recognize the far-off look in his eyes. He’s in a mood, and right now, it could go either way. You place the suit down on a chair and walk over to him. You take his face in your hands. “Ivar? Are you alright?” The look he gives you is heartbreaking.

“I’m going to ask you to do something for me,” he says, uncertainty filling his eyes. You nodded. “I want you to kiss me,” you smile, that was easy, kissing him was a damn pleasure. “And I want you to tell me you love me.” Your smile drops, that was less easy. “Just once,” he pleads, grabbing your hips. “I know you won’t mean it, and I’ll never ask it of you again. I want to pretend, just for one moment, that you love me. Can you do that? For one moment?”

            The look in his face is so desperate, how can you deny him. You run you thumbs over his cheeks and bend down. As you press your lips against his, he brings you closer, wrapping you in his strong arms. The kiss is slow, gentle, oh so sweet. You pull back. “I love you, Ivar.” You tell him, trying to sound like you mean it. He nods, and brings you in for another kiss. You run your fingers through his hair, knowing it was something that soothed him when he felt low.

            You let out a yelp as he turns you onto the bed, not breaking the kiss. His hand begins to sneak up your dress. You knew better than to deny Ivar when he’s like this. He’d back off, but his mood would only get worse. He squeezes your thigh and moves down your neck. This is dangerous territory; your brain tells you. Shit could hit the fan so quickly, but you allowed him to continue.

            Deftly, he undid the tie holding the top part of your dress up. Finally getting access to you breasts, he removes his hand from your thigh and begins to play with a nipple. You moan at the sensation, his mouth making a tender assault on your neck. Your brain was still screaming at you to stop it all, you had to protect yourself. But your heart asked, from what? Ivar loved you, he wouldn’t hurt you, would he? So, you encouraged him.

            A loud moan escapes your lips as his teeth tugs at your skin. “Oh, baby.” You whimper, knowing this to be the phrase that gets him going. He grunts and takes his hand from your breast, replacing it with his mouth. You tangle your hands in his hair in anticipation. Your hips jerk as he hikes up the hem of your dress.

            He shoves the seat of your panties aside and slips one long finger through your slick. He chuckles. “Always so ready for me.” He mumbles, sounding a little like his normal self. “Well, my baby give me the best pleasure.” You tell him. He groans, moving to the other breast. Ivar takes his time getting his fingers wet with your slick. By the time he’s back at your mouth, kissing you tenderly, your whimpering beneath him, writhing in anticipation. “Please?” You whine through the kiss. “Please stop teasing me?” Ivar smiles, continuing his onslaught. You don’t know why you think this is ok, but you decide to be selfish. “My love, please.” You say.

            You watch Ivar’s face fall, but he gives you want you want. With a peck to your lips he slips his well-coated finger inside you, immediately angling upwards for that sweet spot. You throw your head back, bucking your hips. You guilt his momentarily forgotten as pleasure consumes you. Ivar watches you carefully as he pleasures you. Eventually, he adds his thumb to your clit. “Oh fuck!” you moan. “Oh fuck!” It doesn’t take you long to cum, legs shagging, moans ragged. He knew your body to well.

*

            Ivar can’t bear to look at you now that you know his secret. How much he wanted you to love him, how much he needed you to love him. Now you were going to hold it over him for the rest of your time together, however long that would be. He briefly wonders when you’re going to leave him, but decides he can’t take all the pain at once.

            He gives you some time to recover before turning you on your front. He gets two pillows for your hips, and while your adjusting them underneath you, he frees his painful erection. He has half a mind to just go at it, work out all his pain on you. He knew you could take it, knew you even enjoyed it. A thought struck him. What if he could show you how gentle and loving he could be? Would that let him keep you?

            He decides to test his theory. He slips into you slowly, and you moan, rocking your hips back to meet him. He loves that you were always so eager to receive him. It gave him a little hope that you at least liked being with him. His thrusts continue to be slow, gentle. He hopes you can feel the love he pours into it. He must get closer to you, so he leans on one arm, and begins to leave open mouth kisses on your shoulders.

             He’s planning his next move when the movement of your arm catches his eye. That’s it. He shifts, careful not to lean his full weight on you, but making sure his entire front is pressing against your back. He slides his arm underneath yours and grabs your hand. He’s thrilled that you close your fingers around it immediately. He continues to leave open mouth kisses here and there, being as gentle with you as possible.

            It takes forever before you’re twitching underneath him, walls convulsing around his cock. “Ivar,” you moan. His name always sounded so sweet on your lips. “That’s it,” He whispers softly in your ear. He nibbles at the shell. “That’s it, come for me,” he orders. You whimper and wriggle, trying to get the friction that you need. He nuzzles your temple, his own release drawing near. “Come for me.” He commands again. This does it, you let out a loud moan, your characteristic leg twitching begins, your breath comes in short bursts, and your walls are clenching around him rhythmically.

            He talks you through it, encouraging you, telling your you’re so good to him. He climaxes soon after you, riding his own slow release. He carefully, so very carefully, avoids the words “I love you”.


	2. Just One More Moment

            It was a simple walk to a bakery. You were craving donuts, and managed to convince Ivar to come with you. You hadn’t talked about the incident a few months ago, where Ivar had asked you to tell him you love him. After sex, you both had simply gotten up, finished getting ready, and were fashionably late to the party. So far, you live as though it never happened.

            You had no idea if things completely changed for Ivar, but things changed for you. You didn’t want to admit it, but you found yourself wanting to be with Ivar more and more. Your big house seemed so empty without him to fill it, your bed so cold without him next to you. Even the sex had changed. Sure, he still bent you over your knee and smacked your ass when you were naughty, but mostly, it was love making. You decided you didn’t want to analyze it all.

            You had hooked your arm onto his own, not being able to hold his hand when he walked with crutches. You were happily munching on your donut when it happened. You weren’t paying much attention, but Ivar always had a look out. At the squealing of tires, Ivar pushed you hard into the ground. “Ivar, what-” Several bangs cut you off. A shower of glass fell over you and your covered your head, grunting when Ivar falls on top of you. “Ivar, what the hell? Get off me.” You shove him. He coughs, blood coming from his mouth. That isn’t normal.

            That’s when it hits you, gunshot. “Oh God,” You sob, sitting up. “Ivar?” you cry, bring his face in your hands. He looks at you, eyes glazing over. “No, no, no, no, no,” You say. “Ivar, look at me, look at me Ivar. Baby please,” tears start streaming down your face. Ivar gives another bloody cough, grabbing your hand. “Ivar, no, don’t do this, you can’t leave me. Don’t you dare leave me.” You kiss him, not caring that there’s blood. “Baby please, don’t leave me.” You sob, stroking his hair, looking at his body. You don’t know where the bullet holes are, his black shirt covering them. Ivar calls you name.

            You look at him. There are tears spilling down his cheeks. “You have to know.” He says. “Shh, shh, don’t talk, tell me later.” You beg him. “No, you have to know.” He gives another cough. “Ivar please.”

“I love you.” He says. “I really do, I love you so much.” It’s so quiet you have to strain to hear it. Your chest is heaving now. “Shut up stupid.” You say, pressing your forehead to his. “Shut up and tell me this when you’re better.”

“I know I said I’d never ask you this again,” his voice is getting weaker. “I love you,” You say, know exactly what he’s talking about. “I love you, I love you so much. That’s why you can’t leave me.”

            Suddenly, another screeching of tires. “There he is!” In no time, you’re being yanked off him. “No!” You scream, fighting whoever has you. “No! No! You can’t take him. Ivar! Ivar!” You’re shoved into the back of a car. “Go! Go!” The man yells. The car tears away from the curb, you’re still screaming for Ivar.

*

            Gangster. The word keeps running around and around in your mind. Ivar and his family were gangsters. You hadn’t asked many questions about his life, didn’t need to. He paid your bills and fucked you well, that was all you cared about. But now you were involved. Ubbe, Ivar’s older brother, sat next to you, waiting to see if you had any questions. “Are you going to kill me?” you ask. Ubbe chuckles. “No, we aren’t going to kill you. Ivar’s too fond of you.” You nod. “Will he live?” Ubbe brings a hand to yours, but you jerk yourself away, not trusting him. Ubbe retracts it. “Of course he will, Ivar’s a tough sonofabitch.” Relief floods through you. “May I see him when he wakes up?” You ask.

            You didn’t have much hope for it. His mother had looked disdainfully at you, ordering you out of the room as you reached for Ivar. You had argued with her, had been ready to deck her. Ubbe had to drag you from the room. When you were calmer, he sat and explained everything to you. “Of course you can see him when he wakes up. Mother is just…” he looks for the right word. “Isn’t fond of strangers. And she didn’t even know Ivar was seeing someone.” You nod.

            You sit in terse silence, waiting few news. The rest of his family eventually joins you, even Aslaug is kicked from his room. She paces, waiting for news. The clipping of her heels annoys you, but you say nothing. How can you? You were in their care apparently. Besides, you had to know if Ivar would be ok.

            The doctor comes out, and everyone stands at once. She calls your name. You step forward. The doctor smiles gently at you. “He’s asking for you.” She says, laying a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You can go see him now.” Aslaug walks towards the room. “Not you,” The doctor snaps, tone clipped. “I am his mother.” A look passes through them. Apparently, there was bad blood between them, but you were just speculating.

“You aren’t the one he wants to see.” Aslaug glares at you, you hold her gaze as you brush past her into Ivar’s room.

            He sits up as he sees you, looking pale against the white sheets. Tears come back to your eyes as you look at everything he’s connected to. “Come here.” He says softly. You rush to him, unable to take being separated from him. “You asshole!” You say, bringing him in for a kiss. His hand reaches for your face, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. He still tastes of blood, but you can’t care. All that matters is he’s alive, he’s kissing you. “I’m sorry.” He whispers. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You kiss him again. “Hush.” You tell him. “You just focus on getting better, then we can go home.”

“Of course.” He whispers. You press your forehead to his, feeling unbelievable amounts of relief. Quickly you send a prayer to the heavens, thanking them for just one more moment with your love.


	3. Naughty

          Ivar looked at you from across the room, a sort of fury boiling in his gut. It wasn’t directed at you, but his brother Hvitserk. He couldn’t blame the poor fool. You were the most beautiful creature at the party. The red dress you were wearing was one of his favorites. It was modest by today’s standards, length to just above the knee, your breasts were completely covered, the sleeves were even long. But with as much as it concealed, it revealed as well. The dress hugged you so well that despite the modest nature, it left little to the imagination.

            As you finished with Hvitserk, you put a sympathetic hand on his arm. Ivar watches his face light up, watches Hvitserk watching you walk away. Ivar would feel jealousy, but instead, he feels pride. Now that everyone knows about you, he can show you off. And show you off he did. You slide into your seat next to his. He goes on the attack immediately, nibbling at your ear. He’s been aroused all night, since you came out of the bathroom in that dress.

            He takes a hand and puts it on your knee. You giggle, pushing it off. He pulls back from your ear, looking at you. Normally, you encouraged him, what was wrong tonight? You’re smiling coyly at him. “Bad boys don’t get to cop feels.” You tell him. He looks at you, utterly confused. He doesn’t get the time to analyze it, because you kiss him. It’s soft, but playful. He returns it enthusiastically, wondering what the hell has gotten into you. You pull back with a slight nibble.

            Ivar nearly throws you over his shoulder, ready to take you home and have his way with you, but is derailed in his plans when Aslaug sits next to you and strikes up a conversation. Ivar knows you and Aslaug are trying for his sake, but you both donn’t enjoy each other’s company. Not since he got shot, and your first meeting happened in the hospital. He tries again with his hand on your knee, but you push him away, cross your legs, and shift further away from him. He smiles, taking a sip of his drink. He liked this game.

*

            The moment the limo door closes Ivar lunges for you, lust evident in his eyes. You’ve been anticipating it though, so you’re ready, putting your heel to his chest, effectively stopping him. He growls. “Daddy’s hungry.” He says, running a hand up your calf in an effort to reach you. “You know baby,” You say, keeping your foot on his chest. “You really had me worried when you got shot.” It was an understatement, but you couldn’t think of anything else to use against him to set tonight up.

            The lust melts from his face as it becomes soft. You know he’s going to apologize, but you don’t give him the chance. “I think you deserved to be punished for that.” You smile at him, trying your best to look innocent. His mouth drops, trying to process what you just said. “I’m the one that does the punishing.” It’s a weak argument, you ignore it. “And you know,” You say, dropping your foot and leaning towards him. He’s ready for a kiss, but you don’t allow him the pleasure. “I can’t wait until we get home.” He groans and tries to close the gap between you.

            You move to the other side of the limo. “You once told me,” you say, getting situated. “That you loved nothing more than the taste of my pussy.” You watch him gulp as you begin to slide your dress up. “Did you really mean that baby?” He nods, watching you closely. The dress comes over your hips, to reveal that you hadn’t been wearing underwear. Ivar let’s out another growl.

            You spread your legs to let him see all of you. Immediately, he gets on his knees as best he can, you shut your legs quickly. “Why would I reward you?” you ask him, he stops. “This is a punishment baby, get back up on your seat, you don’t move until I tell you to.” Ivar looks as if he’s about to ignore your order, but does what you tell him in the end. A thrill goes through you, usually, you’re the one following his orders. If Ivar like tonight, perhaps he’d let you be in control more often.

            You spread your legs again, running your hands up and down your thighs, teasing him. He’s looking at you with the most intense gaze you’d ever seen on his face. “Do you like what you see?” You ask him. “I love it.” He mutters. “Mm,” you say, finally opening your lips with your fingers. “Do you know what I love?” You ask, taking a finger from you other hand and running it through your slick. He grunts. “I love your tongue,” You tell him. “When it slides up and down,” your finger follows your story, sliding up and down. “When it circles my clit,” you circle your clit giving a moan. “Do you love that Ivar?” You ask. He nods. “Use your words baby,”

“Yes,” he’s hoarse, watching you tease yourself. “Yes, I love it.” You let out another giggle, this is entirely too much fun. “If you’re a good boy, I might let you have a taste. Will you be a good boy Ivar?”

“I’ll be a very good boy.” This sounds like a whine. Coming from one of the most powerful men in the world, that sound thrills you like no other. You decide to reward him by plunging a finger inside your folds. You watch as he licks his lips. After a few pumps of the one finger, you add another, making sure to moan for him, you had to give him a show after all. You watch as his panting his gets heavier, and his hands, clasped patiently in front of him, go white with a grip.

            You eventually add your thumb, pressing it against your clit. “Oh Ivar,” You moan. “It feels so good.” You hear Ivar groan. His hand twitches toward his crotch. “Don’t you dare touch it,” the vehemence in your voice surprises both of you. You don’t analyze it long as you feel your climax quickly approaching. There’s something so wonderfully lewd about Ivar watching you masturbate in the back of the limo. The look on his face so intense, his salt and pepper hair falling into his eyes. But he doesn’t care, because he wants your release as much as you want it.

            You begin to think of things to help you along, the way Ivar feels when he’s inside of you, the way his tongue swirls your clit, and way his hand smacks your ass when you’ve been naughty. It all helps you reach orgasm quickly. The hand holding you lips open for Ivar to see everything abandons its job and goes to the roof to ground yourself as your orgasm rips through you. You call Ivar’s name, hips thrusting into the air in pleasure. When you’re done, you sit back panting, keeping your fingers inside you as you get your bearings.

            “Baby?” you say. Ivar looks at you. You pull your fingers from you, waving them in the air. “You should clean these off.” Ivar is by you side immediately. Licking at your fingers. You let out another giggle while you straighten your dress out. When he’s done, he looks at you, pleading silently. “Oh, is my baby suffering?” You ask, bringing him in for a kiss. It’s a desperate one, one accompanied with a whimper. You pull back and stop him from chasing you. “I’m sorry, but you really need to learn your lesson,” You tell him. “And I don’t think you’ve learned it.”

 “I’ve learned it,” he promises. “I swear I have.” You give him another quick kiss as the limo rolls to a stop in front of his house. You slip out and wait for him to follow.

            The moment the door to his home closes, he’s on you, abandoning his crutches to pin you to the door. He claws at your dress. You allow him a few moments of false victory before you tear yourself away. “Now, now baby, I told you, you need to learn your lesson.” Ivar groans. “This was not in the contract.” He mutters in your neck. You ignore that too and look at him. “Grab your crutches naughty boy, and come meet me in the bedroom.” You manage to slip from his arms.

            You don’t wait to see if he’s following, knowing that you’re too far gone into this for him not to. He’s enjoying himself. You’re sitting on the bed, legs crossed, shoes off, when he comes in. “Take off all your clothes,” you order, “and sit next to me.” He does as you ask him. The moment his pants are free, you look at his cock. It’s standing at full attention, hard, pink, with precum dripping from the tip. “My poor baby,” You say, as he sits next to you. You wrap your hand around his base. He gives a ragged moan at the feeling. You give him a few pumps, and place a kiss on his shoulder. “Don’t you worry, your punishment is almost over.”

“Promise?” He asks, barely able to concentrate. “Promise.” You tell him. You get up and go to his nightstand. You pull out his favorite pair of handcuffs. You hold it out to him, silently asking it it’s ok. He nods to you, and puts his hands out. You cuff him, making sure to leave the key in an easily accessible spot. “Lay on your belly,” you order, giving him a quick kiss to his temple.

            He does so. “Are you comfortable?” You ask him. “Do you need a pillow?”

“Not yet.” He tells you. You nod. You walk over to another one of his drawers, incredibly nervous at what you’re about to do. You’ve never done anything like this before. But you’re sure Ivar understands that even if the roles have been reversed, the safe words are still the same. “Baby,” You call, taking out a small switch. “Yes?”

“Pick a number, one through ten for me.” He hesitates as you walk over to him. “Seven,” he tells you. You nod. “I’m going to spank you,” You tell him, dragging the end of the switch over his perfect butt one cheek at a time. “Seven times.” You wait for him to give consent. “Because I’ve been bad?” he says. You smile. “Because you’ve been bad.” You confirm.

            You had been planning this for weeks now, and you had practiced on the tops of your thighs the right amount of force needed to cause a sting. You were sure that Ivar could handle more pain than you, but you didn’t want to test that theory, especially since this was the first time you were doing this. You brought the switch down on him, once for each cheek. He let out a short bark and wiggles his hips. You made sure to repeat what he does to you, and rub the sting away. “That’s two.” You say, you wanted to be mean and tell him it only counted as one, but you were going to take pity on him, his cock really did look like it was in pain.

            You bring the switch down again, two more times, slightly harder. His hips are wriggling now, his cuffed hands out in front of him. “I’m not learning my lesson,” he pants. “I think you need to hit me a little harder for it to get through.” You stop soothing away the sting. “Oh?” You say, bring the head of the switch to trail his ass cheeks again. “Is that so?” He nods vigorously, “I thought I was the on deciding tonight how you were going to be punished.” Whack, this time, you do put a little more force in it. His groan is loud and long. “I just want to make sure I’ve learned my lesson.” He tells you. “Perhaps I should leave you then? Give you time to think things over until tomorrow?” Whack! That’s six. “No!” he says. “No, don’t leave, you can’t leave. Please.” He is positively writhing now, wanting some friction to relieve the ache.

            You whack him again. Seven. “For trying to tell me how to administer my punishment,” you tell him. “You have to receive two extra smacks.” You wait for him to nod his head. The smacks are rather hard, one on each cheek. You’re surprised at the noise that tears through Ivar’s throat. It’s damn near a scream. You take the time to soothe the stinging, rubbing your hands on the red marks. You can see why Ivar likes being on the giving end, it’s enjoyable to see the redness there. “Roll over baby,” You tell him. He does what you ask. He’s looked at you desperately. “For being such a good boy, you get to choose your reward.” You get up and put the switch back, knowing Ivar hated leaving things lying around.

“Ride me,” he pants. “Please, ride me.” You walk over to his side of the bed and get the key, unlocking the cuffs. He scrambles up the bed, looking at you expectantly. He isn’t reaching for you like he usually does. After you’re finished putting the cuffs away, you move to straddle him. His hands immediately go to your hips in anticipation. You don’t bother taking off your dress, knowing Ivar likes fucking you in it, it’s why you wore it tonight.

            Before you sink down onto him, you take his face in your hands and kiss him. It’s slow, sweet, and full of love. He runs his tongue along the bottom of your lip, and you allow him entrance. As his tongue enter your mouth, you sink down on his cock. You both moan at the pleasure. He breaks from you. “I won’t last long.” He warns you. You begin to rock your hips slowly. “Shh, baby,” you say, kissing along his jaw, down his neck. “This is your reward for being good and taking your punishment.”

            You set a slow pace for Ivar, knowing he liked to enjoy after punishment sex as long as he could. You kiss what you can reach, his shoulders, his neck, his lips. Somewhere along the way, he decided your slow pace just isn’t cutting it for him. So, he pulls out of you and rolls you both over. He gives you a searing kiss before throwing your legs over his shoulders and slamming into you. You both cry out. He begins a relentless pace, angling himself just right. “Fuck!” he growls. “I told you daddy was hungry.”

            As he fucks you, you simply try to hold on. The slapping of skin on skin is filthy in your ears, but the things he calls out is even more so. You feel a second orgasm building up quickly. “Shit, shit, shit,” Ivar groans, he releases your legs and leans into you. Resting his weight on one arm, he brings a hand to your clit. “Ivar!” You moan, clawing at his back. “That’s right, call my name,” he growls. “You fucks you like no other?”

“Ivar!”

“Who’s the only man you want to be with.”

“Ivar!” He groans, and his pace become erratic. He lets out a stream of curses, you’re not far behind him, a second orgasm ripping through you. You hold on to him desperately, whining and keening for him, hoping his body will stop you from floating into the heavens.

            When you’re both finished, he collapses on top of you, not caring out his weight. You smile and bring your arms around his shoulders, kissing his damp hair. “Who loves you more than anything in all the world?” He asks tiredly. Your smile gets bigger as you hug him tighter. You whisper, “Ivar.”


	4. The Sweetest

            It was your fault really. Your attempts to be bold and punish Ivar didn’t take long to catch up to you. You were in a constant state of frustration and pure bliss this entire day because of it. You wanted to hate him, wanted to argue your point. He had enjoyed it after all. But you were such a sucker for punishment you had said nothing at all. Suffice it to say, you were enjoying every minute of it.

            Ivar had woken you that morning like he usually does. Sweet kisses to your cheek and a gentle call of your name. You groaned and rolled over, not exactly ready to be up at the early hour. “Go back to bed baby.” You tell him, curling up in his arms. “No,” He said kissing you. “We have things to do today.” You crack open an eye. “What things?” Usually, if Ivar has something planned, he warned in advanced. The wicked smirk that crosses his features tells you all you need to know. Today is going to be a punishment sort of day.

            You back away from him, excited to see what he has planned. You liked Ivar’s punishments. It’s why you entered the agreement in the first place. But when he held his decided punishment in the air, you nearly broke into tears. “Not the butterfly,” You whined. “I hate that thing.”

“You should’ve thought of that before you decided to spank me.”

“You liked it,” You argued. He shrugged, “Details, details.”

            Things got worse from there. Once you were strapped with the butterfly, Ivar brought out for your clothes for the day. “You have got to be kidding me.” You mutter. Ivar’s wicked smile only grew. “The maid outfit? Really? You know I don’t clean.” He doesn’t answer you, just looks at you expectantly. You growl, getting up. It was part of your agreement after all. Besides, you knew the end results would be well worth it.

            That was how you’d gotten here. Knees so weak with pleasure you could hardly stand, folds so slick it dripped down your thighs. The vibrator was set on the lowest setting. Not enough to give you release, but enough to be a constant reminder. You wanted to cry you were so frustrated. Ivar only made it worse. He walked around shirtless, teasing you every chance he got. Kisses, ass slaps, earlobe nibbles. He did it all. You just wanted to push him to the ground and take him.

            As for any actual cleaning, thank God Ivar gave you mercy for that. It was just little tasks he asked you to perform. Go get him something to drink, bend over and get what he dropped, rub his shoulders. You thought about teasing him back, but knew better. He’d just come up with something more infuriating later.

            You had tried begging him to take you, you even got on your knees to plead to him. That had almost done him in, but he had a will like iron. He denied you, and sent you on your way. Now it was dinner time, and he was absolutely delighted with the mess you’ve become. You were standing to the side of him, waiting for him to give you an order. “Are you hungry?” He asks, breaking the silence. You understand this is genuine concern on his part, it touches you, but you’re determined to see this game through. “Not for food.” You mutter. He gives you a cheeky smile. “Oh?”

            “Ivar, please,” You try again, reaching for him. All your pride flew out windows when it came to him. “Please, I need you.” You get on your knees and grab his thigh. “Please baby?” Ivar’s pupils are blown wide with lust as he watches you beg for him. You drag your hand up his leg, to the waistband of his pants. “I don’t know,” He says, voice rough. You swipe your fingers lightly over his bulge, knowing he’s close to breaking. “You were a very bad girl yesterday.” He runs a hand through your hair. “That was yesterday,” You tell him. “This is today. I’ve been a very good girl today.” You place a kiss on his knee while your finger slip between his skin and the waistband.

            He grabs your hands and jerks you up into his lap. “Have you come today?” He asked. You shake your head furiously. That was one of rules when you wore the butterfly, you weren’t allowed to climax. “Are you lying?”

“No!” You say desperately. “No, I swear. I’ve been good.” You move to straddle him. “Please? Please take me?” You lean to kiss him, but he jerks his head away. “It’s time for dessert.” He says. “Clear the table.” You know better than to argue.

            As your piling the dishes to take into the kitchen, you feel Ivar’s hand on the back of your thigh. “My poor woman,” He says. “I’ve been very cruel to you, haven’t I?” His free hand joins your other thigh. “You could always make it up to me,” You say hopefully. Ivar chuckles and removes his hands. You feel let down before his hands began to unbuckle the butterfly from your legs. You let out a sob of relief as he removes it. “You know I wouldn’t torture you if you couldn’t take it, right?”

“I know Ivar,” You put your hands flat on the table, hoping he’d do more. He lifts the hem of the maid outfit out of the way, not that it was covering much to being with. “I know you like it, love.” You feel his warm breath ghost over an ass cheek. “I do like it.” You admit. You yelp as he gives you a rough bite. “What do you like best about it?” He asks. You take your time in answering. Mostly because you can’t concentrate as he soothes the sting with his tongue. “I like that it’s you.” You tell him. He rewards you with another bite, this time on the other cheek. “I like being punished by you, because I know the reward will be so sweet.”

            You give another shout when you feel his tongue lick the length of you. You brace yourself against the table, not wanting to fall to the ground. If you did that, he might stop. “Are my rewards sweet?”

“The sweetest.” You gasp as he circles your swollen clit with his tongue. “Which rewards to you like the best I wonder?”

“I like you the best,” You admit. He pops your clit into his mouth, sucking it lightly. “I like you between my thighs, above me, grunting and groaning.” He growls and you nearly come undone right then and there. “I like the way you call my name, hoarse and desperate. I like-” You’re cut off as your orgasm hits you. It’s all you can do to hold onto the table. Ivar helps you ride it out, his mouth sealed around your clit.

            When you’re done, he grabs your waist and pulls you to him. His fingers waste no time in replacing his mouth. “Ivar!” You call, grabbing onto the arms of his chair. You feel his hot breath in your ear. “When I am done here,” He says. “You are going to go into our room, and wait for me. You will be naked and ready for me to fuck you, do you understand?”

“Yes,” You gasp, struggling against his hold. You can’t help it, the pleasure you’re receiving is too much for you to keep still. Ivar keeps the circles around your clit tight, the pressure heavy. It isn’t long before your second orgasm runs its course. Ivar lets you come to your senses before patting your thigh. “Go now love.” You nod, getting up on unsteady legs. You manage to make it to your room. Sitting on the bed, you rush to take the outfit off.

            You barely have the top off before Ivar is in the doorway. You pause, wanting to explain yourself. He didn’t give you enough time, he was supposed to wait a little bit before following you. You don’t want to be punished again, you didn’t think you could handle it. Punishment seemed to be the last thing on Ivar’s mind as he crossed the room in a rush.

            Without a word, he pushes you into the mattress, giving you a bruising kiss. You moan, returning it with just as much passion. “Shit,” He pants, “Turn over,” You do as he asks, gathering pillows for your hips. As you’re getting comfortable, he frees himself from his pants. There is no warning as he enters you, just a groan and a moment of stillness.

            There is nothing gentle about him now. His pace is brutal and quick. There is no love here. Love will come later; it will come after. With sweet kisses and sweeter words. But damned if it isn’t exactly what you need. You claw at the sheets and cry out. You try moving your hips in match his, but are unable. Ivar’s hand sneaks up and closes around your throat. Not enough the close your airway, but enough to let you know his raw power.

            He lets out a string of curses, pace becoming erratic. He leans in close to you ear. “Is my reward so sweet now?”

“Yes,” You gasp. “The sweetest.” He moves and presses his forehead between your shoulders. Letting out another string of curses, he comes. You come with him, third climax leaving you utterly speechless. You fall limp and helpless when you’re finished. Ivar places kisses across the expanse of your shoulders. “Ivar,” You manage. “Hm?”

“If this is what I get for spanking you, I think I’m going to do it more often.” He chuckles. “I’d like that.”


	5. Finish

            You’ve been waiting for Ivar for nearly an hour, beginning to lose your nerve. The dynamics between you two have changed once again. You’re getting bolder now, much to Ivar’s pleasure. It had resulted in some very unpredictable situations. You hoped to initiate such a situation tonight. It would depend on what mood Ivar was in when he came through the door.

            You were wearing Ivar’s favorite underwear set. It was a deep red, with black frills. Stockings were secured to your thighs with matching garters. You forewent the heels, Ivar hated it when you wore them. Mainly because after everything was said and done, he wanted to go to sleep in whatever position you finished off in, heels disrupted that.

            You stand as soon as you hear the key in the lock, gripping the switch you liberated from his bedroom drawer. Ivar walks into the house and calls for you. You remain where you are. “You won’t believe the day I’ve had,” He calls, sure you’re listening. You hear him shuffle towards the living room. Most days, he can find you there, sitting idly watching television, or with a book. “Of course, Sigurd was with me all day so-” He stops at the entrance of the living room, mouth dropping open.

            You feel a moment of insecurity as he looks over you. But when his eyes meet yours, everything is washed away. His looks hungry. “The question, my love,” You say, tapping the switch against your thigh. “Is do I really care to hear about your day?” You repress the wince that threatens to break your persona. Of course, you care, but now wasn’t the time to care for him, now was the time to punish him.

            Ivar drags his tongue over his bottom lip, the grip on his crutches making his knuckles white. “No ma’am.” He says. “I guess you don’t.”

“Then why are you speaking?”

“Sorry ma’am.” He whispers. “Sit,” you tell him, motioning to the armchair. It’s your favorite chair in the whole house. Soft and malleable, it’s like sinking into a cloud. Ivar had caught you many times napping in it. It’s hard for him to get out of it, as it’s so low to the ground, but it’s the perfect height for what you have planned.

            As he settles into the chair, placing his crutches to the side, you wonder idly how you’re going to accomplish this. Ivar’s mouth is in the perfect position to please you, but you weren’t sure if you could keep yourself up. He’d catch you, no doubt, but still, you didn’t want to fall and make a fool of yourself.

            You position yourself in front of him, slapping his hand with the switch as he reaches for you. You’re both surprised that you’ve managed to even catch him. “Ivar,” You sigh, running your hands through his hair. It drives him nuts, he has to close his eyes to keep his composure. “Sweet, sweet Ivar, do you know how cruel you were to me this morning? Leaving me half-finished because work is more important than me?”

“I’m sorry,” He whispers. You wrench your hand from his hair and grab his chin. “You will speak only when spoken to.” You snarl. “Do you understand?” He nods. You place a tiny kiss on the tip of his nose. “Good. Like I said, you were incredibly cruel, doing that to me. I had to think about it all day.” You whine. “I even thought about finishing myself off. Fingers slipping in and out of me, circling my clit.” You watch Ivar gulp as you paint the picture for him. “But,” You say, “Today is your lucky day, you get to finish what you started.”

            Ivar twitches, wanting to touch you, but at the rise of your brow, he manages to control himself. He settles for running his hands back and forth on his thighs. You’re regarding him, thinking perhaps you should’ve started this in the bedroom. Too late now, you were in too deep to back out.

            You place your foot on the arm of the chair, opening yourself to him. His eyes drift downwards, dragging his tongue across his lip again. “Begin.” You tell him. He positions himself at the edge of the chair. Running his hands up your stockinged legs he brings his head close to your hips. He stops, and looks at you. “What?” You ask, a little annoyed that he’s hesitating. “With the panties on or off?” He asks. You smirk. “What do you think?”

            Ivar gives you a quick smirk and begins working you. You loved the feel of Ivar’s tongue gliding against you, his lips wrapping around your clit. It was a sublime experience hard to put into words. There was just one thing you loved more than just his tongue. It was the feeling of soft, wet fabric running between your folds. There was something about the muted pleasure that just had you gasping for air.

            This time was no different. Ivar used his thumbs to spread your lips for easier access, but his tongue did all the work. Slow licks up and down the length of you, slight pressure on your clit when he reached the end. After all day of thinking about his wicked tongue, you weren’t going to last long.

            Your hands tangled in Ivar’s hair, fingernails scratching his scalp lightly. Ivar groans at the sensation and picks up the pace. You bite your lip, not wanting to make any sounds. It would give him entirely too much pleasure to hear them. However, gasps did escape you the closer you got to climax. Even your legs began to shake.

            You pressed Ivar’s face closer to you, wanting him to finish, all thoughts of collapsing forgotten. Ivar let’s out a vicious growl and begins to focus his efforts on your clit. Short, rough passes of his tongue made quick work of you at this point, and you came with the tiniest of whimpers. You rock your hips as Ivar helps you through climax. He makes sure to hold your ass to keep your hips close to his mouth.

            When you’re done, your foot slips from the arm of the chair and you back away, proud to see you haven’t fallen. Your legs feel weak, but that would only last for a moment, you were sure. “To the bedroom.” You order. You move to help him from the seat, but he surprises you by getting to the ground and crawling. You had seen him do it only once, and he had threatened to break contract if you so much as even thought about it again. Apparently, he was much more comfortable with you now.

            You take a few moments to regain your composure for following him. When you entered the bedroom, you understood why he took you so roughly after he was done punishing you. Seeing him there, ready for whatever you had in store for him was intoxicating. You wanted nothing more than to sink yourself onto him and ride him as hard as you possibly could.

            “Take off your clothes.” You order him, resisting your urges. You watch as his hands move to his zipper. “Shirt first.” He does what you asked him. Even in his mid-forties, he was packed with muscle. You often enjoyed watching him do things shirtless. He’s used it against you many times, but tonight you weren’t going to let him win.

            When he was finished with his clothes, you take him in. He tried his best to hide his legs from you, pulling the sheet over them. For a moment, your eyes softened. One day, you were going to have to show him it no longer mattered to you. At first, they had given you pause, but now, you hardly cared. You love Ivar, his twisted legs and all. “Lay on your front Ivar,” You tell him. “You’re to be punished again.” He nods eagerly positioning himself face down.

            You walk over to him, “How many are we choosing tonight, Ivar?”

“Five.” He whispers. “Five? That’s less than last time.”

“I’d really like you to have me ma’am.” He explains. “To make up for being so mean this morning.” You run the switch from his neck to his ass. He shivers with anticipation. “What makes you think I’m going to let you make it up to me? You’ve already given me what I asked for, why should I reward you for knowing your place?”

“Please,” He whispers. “Perhaps I’ll just leave you like this after I’m done.: You tease. “Get dressed, go home for the night.”

“Don’t, please,” His voice is rough with need, tone desperate. You give him his first smack. Not expected, he lets out a mighty yelp. You sit next to him, rubbing the sting away. “What’s this? Is the great Ivar Lothbrok begging me to lay with him?”

“Yes,” he admits, no hesitation. “God yes, please, don’t leave me alone.” You get up and give him another hit. This time, you don’t bother alternating cheeks. You watch him carefully for signs of discomfort. Nothing but a groan and a hip roll. “So you, Ivar Lothbrok, are begging me to stay with you tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Just so I can finish you off?”

“No,” He’s quick to amend. “No, I want you here. With me.” The third smack lands rather hard. His other cheek this time. You wince, thinking you’ve gone too far, but he just yells and digs his hips harder into the mattress. You take extra care to rub the sting away, feeling a little guilty. “So, you simply want nothing more than for me to be with you?” He nods vigorously. “Yes,” he breaths. “Yes,”

            Instinctively you sense that he’s working through something. “Ivar?” You whisper, breaking the play. He cranes his neck to look at you. “Ivar, is something wrong?” He opens his mouth, wanting to confess. He shakes his head. “Just finish.” He says. “I need you to finish.”

            You purse your lips. You know you should stop, take the time to let him vent, but that will come after, you’re sure. You get back up and lay another smack on his ass. This time, hitting both cheeks. Ivar doesn’t get the chance to recover as you deliver another blow across both cheeks. “Jesus woman!” He cries. “You drive me insane.” You smirk, moving to lie next to him. You abandon the switch for now, determined to remember to put it back when you’re done with him. “What else can I do to you?” You muse, running a finger across his jaw. “How else can I go about teasing you?”

“Don’t tease me anymore.” He whimpers. “Please?”

“Oh,” You smile wickedly. “I’m going to tease you.” You promise. “It’s going to be a while before I let you touch me.”

“At least kiss me?” You decide to take some pity on him and lean in. The brush of his lips is soft. You don’t let him kiss you for long, his kisses tend to be your undoing. You crawl off the bed and put the switch up. You do it slowly, stalling for time. You have absolutely no idea what to do with him. You’ve already spanked him, but that was as far as you’d gotten with this whole idea. But now, you wanted more, wanted to see how long you could draw everything out.

            You turn to him, wicked smile on your face. “On your back Ivar.” You tell him, hoping inspiration would hit you. He scrambles to do as he’s told, bunching up the pillows behind his head eager for your next idea to come to fruition. Something isn’t right about the picture in front of you. You look at him, brows furrowed to figure what was off. Again, his legs were covered.

            You bite your lip, remembering what he had said when he came through the door. He’d had a rough day, and spent it with Sigurd. It clicked in your mind then. Ivar didn’t bother with his legs around you, not anymore. But when it came to Sigurd, the brother that wasn’t above hitting every single insecurity Ivar had, Ivar became shy. Inspiration did hit you then. “I desire you Ivar.” You tell him. You make your way over to the edge of the bed. You run your hands across his chest down his belly. “But I’m so very angry with you.”

“How can I show you I’m sorry?” He asks. You look at his cock, it looks swollen and painful. Precum had long since leaked from his slit and covered the head. “You were always so good with your hands,” you mutter. You lay next to him again, adjusting so your head was on his chest. “I want you to touch yourself Ivar.” You drag your fingers across his belly again and he shivers. “I thought that was your job ma’am.” He mutters into your hair. You look up at him. “Are you disobeying me?”

            He shakes his head quickly reaching for his cock. You watch as his thick fingers wrap around himself. He begins to pump slowly, grunting with relief. He runs his fingers across the head, then all the way down his length. His pace is lazy, stopping completely the few times you lean up to kiss him. You can tell he’s close when he tenses and begins to roll his hips. “Enough.” You say. He whimpers but stops, looking at you with pleading eyes. “You’re going to use those fingers on me next.” You decide, straddling him. “Then,” You say, leaning down to place a few kisses on his chest. “If you do a good job, I’ll ride you.”

            He runs his hands up and down your legs, “Will you keep your outfit on?” he breathes. You look at him, smiling. “Maybe,” You say. “Depends on if you do a good job or not.” You kiss his nose. Without preamble, he plunges his hand down your panties. Eager to get things done and over with.

            You’re soaking, so slipping his fingers inside you was an easy task. This time, you do let out a moan for him. You brace yourself, nails digging into his shoulders as he begins, middle finger rubbing that sweet spot inside you, thumb on your clit. You rock your hips in time with his motions, wanting another release. You begin to pant, pleasure coursing through you. “Ivar!” you moan, “more pressure.” He obliges you, then surprises you by making his slow pace brutal. All you can do is hold onto him.

            Your body goes rigid, orgasm slamming into you. You scream his name to the heavens and claw at his shoulders. When all is said, and done, you collapse on top of him, sweaty, chest heaving. Ivar pulls his hand from you, licking his fingers clean. When he’s done with that task, he begins to kiss whatever part of you he can reach. You don’t know how long it takes to come to your senses, but eventually you do.

            You look up at him. “Are you ready love?” you ask. He grabs your hips. “Yes,” he whispers. “I’ve been ready since I walked through the door.” You smile, giving him a quick kiss before getting into position. You move the seat of your panties, soaked and damn near transparent despite the deep red color, and line him up. Your moans are identical when you sink onto him.

            You begin to work him slowly, still sensitive from previous orgasms. Ivar watches you, mouth half opened, the look in his eyes nothing but reverence. If you weren’t already flushed from your activities, you’d blush. Instead, you settle for, “My breasts are feeling a little lonely.”

            Ivar props himself up on one elbow and brings his free hand behind your head. He leans in and gives you a fierce kiss. Before the kiss his over, you feel his hand move to your chest. Popping one from the cup of your bra, he rolls a hard nipple between his fingers. You pull back to let out a gasp. He kisses down along your jaw, stopping for a moment or two to nibble on your pulse. He abandons the one breast to free the other. His hand goes back to the original breast as he pops the other nipple in his mouth.

            The sensations are nearly too much for you to handle. You’re entirely too sensitive at this point. All your can do is tangle your hands in Ivar’s damp hair and wait for everything to be done. He drags his teeth across your nipple then abandons it for the other. Before his mouth can get to its destination, you put your hand on him and push him back.

            Everything stops for a moment. You had just wanted Ivar far enough away from you so you can focus on you impending third climax, you weren’t paying attention to where you hand was. Your delicate fingers were wrapped around his neck. You both look at each other, surprised. You’re about to apologize when he settles into the bed, giving his hips a roll. It takes you a few moments to react, but when you do, you go ahead with your plan, albeit slightly altered.

            You know you don’t have the force to cause Ivar any real damage, but you do tighten your grip on his throat. He lets out a low moan and grabs your hips. Your pace quickens, both of you intent on release. This is a far cry from the love-making you’re used to. This is pure carnal desire, all need no love. You’re both grunting savagely, chasing sweet release. Ivar is meeting you thrust for thrust, face contorted in an ugly sort of pleasure.

            You both let out a ‘fuck’ the moment you release hits you. Your thrusts get sloppy and erratic. His grip on your hips are so tight its sure to leave marks, you leave marks of your own, dragging your free hand down his chest, leaving a trail of red. You manage to hold yourself up this time, instead of just collapsing on him. You place your hand on his cheek, swiping your thumb across his lips. “I love you.” You mutter. He grabs your hand, leaning into it, eyes closed. This tells you need to know about his day. You place a soft kiss to his lips. “I love you so much.”


	6. Just Let Me Hold You

            Ivar Lothbrok would never be able to throw you over his shoulder, he couldn’t fuck you against a wall, couldn’t fuck you on top of the dining room table, it was simply beyond his capabilities. This did not mean he couldn’t fuck you. In fact, he fucked you very well.

            Using a combination of toys, a hundred meaningless nights with hookers, and his own astute observations, Ivar could make you sing like a goddamned canary. And there was no mistaking the pride he felt when you came undone. Underneath him, on top of him, all tied up and gagged, it was always a pleasure to see, even more pleasurable to hear.

            The best part of it all was your desire for him. The heat in your eyes that matched his own, the hunger and passion in your kisses. Some days, when entire weeks had gone by and you hadn’t seen him, you’d claw at him, ripping buttons from his expensive shirts just to get at the flesh underneath. Nothing in all the world made him feel more wanted, more desire than when you did that. The bruises and marks that you left on his skin was all the evidence he needed to quiet that niggling voice inside his head that insisted you were only doing it because he was paying for everything.

            He loved the envy he received from other men, and even some women. You were achingly gorgeous, incredibly charming, and even funny if you had the mind to be. You would make the perfect trophy wife of some rich asshole if you had the wherewithal. You didn’t. You enjoyed books as much as diamonds, witty conversations as much as yacht rides. You made him look good in the eyes of others, in turn he treated you with reverence, as goddesses should be treated.

            As much as he liked the sex, with as good as you made him look, it was moments like these he chose to burn into his mind’s eye. You were sitting next to him on the bed, warmest, fuzziest onesie on, fuzzy slippers with a tiger pattern on your feet. There was a book in one hand, the other was grasping his, fingers tangled together. Holding hands to you was just an afterthought, it was something you did so often you didn’t even think about it anymore. It made Ivar’s heart ache with love for you. You reached for him as if it were the most natural thing in all the world.

            A year ago, this simple act of affection would’ve broken his heart. He once had to pretend every small gesture you sent his way was done out of love, not because he paid for everything. He remembered very clearly the small kisses he would leave on your skin when you slept. In the dead of night, he held you, smelled the perfume of your skin, felt the heat of you and pretended, for just a moment that you loved him too. When he took you from behind it was easier to fool himself into thinking that you desired him as much as he desired you. Long hours in the darkness were spent creating an illusion of comfort, only to be broken with the arrival of dawn.

            Now all his midnight dreams were true. He lifted your hand to his lips and kissed it. The small smile on your face made him smile too. This was what love felt like, contentment. In this moment, not even Sigurd’s jealous words could penetrate his bliss. “I think we should heat up the spaghetti in the fridge.” You tell him. He only hums in agreement. In truth, he doesn’t want to move. It’s cold out now, and the pain in his legs is severe. You close your book and look at him, sparkle in your eye.

“Come on,” You say, removing your hand from his. “I’ll even feed you off my plate.” He chuckles, moving to sit up. He groans, the pain in his legs greater than he anticipated. You look at him. Internally, he begs you not to ask him if he’s in pain, it will ruin the moment. Instead, you something else entirely.

            You settle on his side of the bed and begin to roll his pant leg up without hesitation. He grabs your hands, forty years of fear telling him he needs to stop you. You look at him, brow furrowed. “I’m fine.” He says. “Don’t be a damned baby.” You snap, trying to remove his hands from yours. “Ivar, let go of me.”

“I’m fine,” He says again. It comes out more like a plea than anything. “Ivar,”

“Just don’t,” he’s quiet, trying not to yell at you. It’s important you don’t touch his legs. If you do, you’ll realize he’s wrong and you’ll run for the hills. “Ivar, I’ve seen your legs before,” You remind him. Yes, you have, many times, but you’ve never touched them. He’s panicking on the inside, wondering what he can do to prevent this. “I’ll just-”

“You’ll just sit there and let me take care of you.” You snap. Ivar purses his lips, biting back the vicious retort threatening to come forth. Ivar watches as your face softens. The look in your eye is telling, you’re going to change tactics. “Is it so wrong to want to take care of my baby?” You ask, bringing his hands to your mouth to kiss. “To love him and want him to feel his best?”

“Please don’t do this to me.” He begs. “I only want to make my baby feel better.” Your leaning in now, brushing your lips against his. Ivar is weak against you. As much as he loves the control, he has no defenses against forty years of longing for someone like you. “I love my baby,” You continue after breaking the kiss. “So, so much.” You kiss him again, running your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly. This is what makes him crumble. “Fine,” He says, leaning back on the headboard. “Fine.”

            He closes his eyes, unable to take the sight of your disgusted. As you roll his pant legs up, he prepares himself for utter heartbreak. He goes through his mind, remembering all the good moments you had, knowing they would be the only things to get him through this rejection. He breathes in deeply, and lets it out slowly, determined not to get choked up. He couldn’t keep you forever, of course, you were just under contract. Your love for him was fragile, it wouldn’t survive this.

            He jumps when he feels your soft hands touch the leg closest to you. “Is it that painful?” You ask. He grits his jaw but says nothing. Squeezing his eyes tightly, he’s determined not to look at you as you rub his twisted limb. “My poor, sweet Ivar,” You say, working out the knots. “You should’ve let me do this sooner.” He still doesn’t answer you. His humiliation lasts forever, or it seems like it does. He fists the sheets, grinds his teeth, wondering when you’re going to run screaming from him and never come back.

            He’s wondering if he can beg you for one last night together before you leave him, No sex, no kissing, even no touching if you didn’t want it. He simply wanted to watch you sleep, buried comfortably in his sheets, pretending once again you cared. Just one last time.

            This is when you take him by complete surprise. You stop for a few moments to lean down and place a kiss to his knee. He’s so shocked he yelps. You jump up and look at him wide eyed. “Did I hit a bad knot? I’m sorry baby. I’ll try to be more gentle.” You place another kiss on his knee and get back to work. Ivar watches you, mouth hanging open. It’s as if his most secret wish had come to life.

            This is the most intimate thing you’ve ever done to his body, and you’ve done some pretty intimate things. With every stroke of your hands, he feels a shiver down his spine. Finally, he can’t take it anymore. He grabs your wrists and yanks you to his chest. “Ivar, really? Let me finish.”

“I will,” He promises. “Later, Just let me hold you for a moment.”  


	7. Your Girl

            The room is silent as Ivar debates on whether he should kill his brother. Bless Hvitserk, the man meant well, but he was an utter idiot. You both were at a family function. You of course, looking dazzling as always. He loved showing you off, loved the lustful gazes his brothers sent your way. Loved how you ignored their passes in favor of paying attention to him. But Hvitserk had to ruin everything.

            Hvitserk had been trailing you like a puppy all night long. Sitting a little too close to you for Ivar’s liking, but when he brought up the subject of your contract, Ivar had tried to hush him. It was too late, damage was done, Sigurd had overheard. “What contract?” He asked. “You know,” Hvitserk said. “The contract Ivar and his lady friend has. It says she’ll sleep with him if he kept up with her rent. I saw it in his office earlier today.” Ivar squeezes his eyes shut.

            How could he be so incredibly stupid? He knew better than to leave such private things out in the open, especially with his brothers in the house. The only reason he had it out in the first place was because he wanted to terminate it. He had decided it was long overdue anyhow. He’d long since fallen for you. He wanted you in his life because you wanted to be there, not because a piece of paper said so.

            He turned his gaze to the ceiling. Why was it whenever he found some slice of happiness with you, it was ripped from him most cruelly? Sigurd laughs. “I knew there was a catch!” He slams a fist on the table. “There’s no way someone as beautiful as her gets with someone like Ivar.” He sounds absolutely delighted. “How pathetic do you have to be to have a girl sign a contract to date you?”

“It’s none of our business.” Ubbe says softly, giving Ivar a small smile. “She’s a lovely woman, regardless of the reason she’s with our brother.”

“So,” Hvitserk turns back to you. “How does one enter a contract with you?” Ivar watches you carefully. You look absolutely incensed that he even brought it up. “What happens between Ivar and I is our business,” You snap. “Not yours.”

“It explains it though, how worried she was when he got shot. Didn’t want her only source of income gone.” Sigurd continues. “I hope you didn’t put her in the will.”

“Oh do shut up,” you finally snap. Ivar watches you with his mouth open. You aren’t very vocal at these little gatherings, so for you to even say more than two words is surprising. You straighten yourself out, looking every bit as stately as you could manage. Ivar can’t help the look of adoration that comes over his face, you miss it in favor of glaring at both Sigurd and Hvitserk. “It’s true, at the beginning of our relationship, there was a contract. But it’s now null and void, and has been for some time. Just because you still have to pay someone to even look your way is no reason to drag Ivar down to your level.”

            Sigurd goes red as everyone snickers. Ivar is too preoccupied by your words to gloat. You’ve defended him in front of his whole family. He feels tears come to his eyes as his heart pounds in his chest.

“See?” Ubbe says looking at his younger brother proudly. “She likes him.”

“Love,” You say. Ubbe chuckles and nods. “My apologies. She loves him.” Ivar swallows a sob, unwilling to believe this day. He feels all the anger for Hvitserk evaporate. It’s one thing to say you loved him in the confines of his own home, but in the open, with all his family to witness it, it was another thing entirely. He grabs his crutches and gets up from his chair, room too stifling.

            He opens the door to stand on the back porch, blinking away tears. He takes deep, shuddering breaths. It’s almost more than he can handle, your admittance. He’s determined to get himself together though, there’s only so long he trusts you to be with his family. Besides, the faster he returns, the faster he can have you in his arms.

*

            It’s hard for you to breathe. Your chest hurts and you’re sure you’re going to die. Tears keep threatening to fall. Somehow, this situation is so much worse than when Ivar was shot. At least then you knew he loved you. But now, you weren’t sure.

            You had embarrassed him in front of his whole family, there was no way he could forgive you for that. And why had he had your contract out? Was he going to terminate it? What relationship did you have outside of that little piece of paper? Since you openly declared your love for him, he’d been quiet. He had to get up from the table afterwards. Ubbe assured you it meant nothing, but to you, it meant everything.

            You couldn’t imagine life without Ivar now. It wasn’t the cars, the jewelry, the clothes. It was Ivar. It was the way he looked at you when you were reading. It was the way he kissed your hair before he left to work for the day. It was the way he called your name and told you he loved you. It was him, the man himself. Money be damned. And now, you were going to lose all that.

            You sniffle, trying to get yourself together enough to be able to go to bed. With any luck, Ivar will take you from behind tonight, that way you won’t have to look at him above you, his beautiful face contorted in pleasure. With any hope, he’ll already be asleep, and you won’t have to deal with anything tonight. You’ll just be able to sleep by his side and hopefully forget any of what happened today. Maybe he won’t do anything, maybe he’ll cling to you, but you doubted it. Ivar was stronger than you ever could hope to be, he could survive this break up, you didn’t think you could.

            You throw water on your face, not being able to help it when you start thinking of all the things you must get in order tomorrow. You kept a lot of the things you bought for yourself separate from everything Ivar bought you. This would make clean up easier. You even had your old car. It was in good running condition. You knew a friend that would take you in at a moment’s notice. Your degree was even still valid; you’d be up on your feet in no time.

            It was an odd sense of comfort that washed over you as you thought things through. Having a definite plan of action soothed the ache in your chest. It would be hard, and right now, it felt like dying, but you’d get through it at least.

            You open the bathroom door and freeze, seeing Ivar holding your contract in his hands. You grip the door knob tightly, feeling everything closing in on you. “What are you going to do with it?” You ask. “Shred it,” he says, looking up at you, smiling. He puts it on the night stand. “It’s like you said, it’s null and void now.” You watch as he reclines in the bed, hands behind his head. He looks so incredibly delicious all stretched out before you. “What?” He asks. “What happens now?”  You ask, keeping your white knuckled grip on the door handle. You don’t want to know; you can’t handle knowing. You just want one more moment with him not worrying about what will happen when dawn comes.

            Ivar simply shrugs. “I was thinking about sleeping.” He said. “But if you have other ideas.” His grin is wicked, but you shake your head. “No, Ivar,” You say, finally letting go of the door knob. You settle on the edge of your side of the bed. “What happens to us?” A look of doubt settles over Ivar. “Nothing?” He says, not sure of the answer you want to hear. “Everything is the same.” He tells you. “You’re still my girl.” Ivar place a hand on your arm. “If you want to be.” He adds. It’s a quiet addition, he doesn’t want to pressure you into things. You laugh with relief, feeling incredibly foolish. You place your head on his shoulder and get comfortable. “Of course I’m your girl.”


	8. Kidnapped

            It was a rare occurrence to be in your own home these days. But every couple needed a break from each other. This was how you found yourself in your own couch, shoving your favorite snack in your face and flicking through the channels. Sure, you could do it at Ivar’s house, but he had business to attend to. Generally, that was code for ‘I’m going to do illegal things and I don’t need you incriminated in any way in case I get arrested’. You never argued that point.

            You’re just begging to think you should call a friend and make plans for dinner when your phone rings. You pluck it out of your lap and look at the screen. Smiling you swipe the screen to answer it. “Hey baby.” You say. “Business done yet?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” This was a voice you didn’t recognize. You stay quiet, not sure how to handle this. “Oh, silly me. You don’t know who I am, I’m Aaron.”

“Hello Aaron.” You say, panic setting in. “How are you today?” Aaron gasps. “She has manners! That’s so rare to see in a Lothbrok woman. I’m doing very well miss, better now that I’ve gotten a hold of you.”

“Is there something I can do for you?”

“There is in fact. I’m afraid Ivar has been rather uncooperative lately.”

“Yes, he can be very stubborn.”

“Indeed. I need something my dear, and it seems you’re the one to get it for me.”

“If it’s money, I only have what’s in my bank account.” Aaron chuckles. “Darling, no! What I want is something so much more precious. There’s a safe in his home,”

“Pardon me, I’m going to have to stop you for a moment. I’m just Ivar’s girlfriend,” You explain. “I don’t know anything about his business dealings.”

“No? Shame really. I guess you’d better figure things out quickly then. There’s a safe in his home, I want what’s in it. Find it, or, well, you know how these things go.”

“Ivar dies, I get it. Is there any way I can talk to him, make sure he’s still alive?”

“No,”

“Fair enough.” You hear Aaron give another chuckle. “One last thing,” He says. “Let me guess, don’t go to the police or to Ivar’s family, right?”

“Oh, you are a smart one. I look forward to meeting you.” You gulp, close to tears. He gives you a time and place. The moment you hang up, a sob bursts forth from your throat. You have no idea how to help Ivar, and quite possibly, you’d get him killed. You take a few deep breaths, pulling yourself together. You were going to help Ivar, there was no way around it. Grabbing your keys and heading to your car, you think about where this supposed safe in his house could possibly be.

            You have to remind yourself to follow the road laws on your way to his home. Chewing your bottom lip, you think. There were two ways Ivar could’ve went about hiding his safe. In a really obvious place, or in a really well hidden place. Both options meant you needed to know him well enough to figure it out. The question was, did you know Ivar as well as you thought you did?

            You quickly come to the heartbreaking conclusion that you don’t. You only know the side Ivar choses to show you. Some days, he needs absolute control, he usually brought it out in the bedroom. Very rarely it leaked outside of it. Once or twice he ordered you what to wear, how to act, and what to eat. Most days, he just wanted the quiet. Domestic life seemed to be a comfort to him like none he’d ever known.

            But that was Ivar at home. You were damned sure that Ivar doing business would be entirely different. You wouldn’t be able to recognize him. Pulling into his driveway, it dawned on you that knowing Ivar in a domestic setting was your advantage. He couldn’t possibly be thinking about business when he hid the sage here. You run into the house, not being able to open the door fast enough, but pause in the entryway, looking around.

            Tapping your fingers restlessly, you think, where would Ivar hide an entire safe? When you phone goes off again, you yelp, nearly jumping from your skin. You whip it from your pocket to see it’s Ubbe. He’d given you his number the first time you met, back when Ivar had gotten shot. He’d told you ‘just in case’. You feel guilty looking at it, but answer it anyway. “Hey, Ubbe,” You say, trying to sound as casual as possible. You shut Ivar’s door and began to look around.

            You stop at Ivar’s study, no, it would be in there, too obvious. “Hey, is Ivar with you? He was supposed to meet us today for, uh, business. He never showed.” You winced, thinking of a lie. You were going to regret the hell out of this later. “Yeah, sorry, I uh, I kept him tied up.” There’s silence on his end of the line. “Really?” He sounds interested. You let out a forced chuckle. “Really,” you tell him, coming to the bedroom. “Sorry, time just got away from me is all.”

“No, no.” You hear Ubbe’s own chuckle. “Ivar deserves a break. We can just postpone.”

“Thank God,” You say, walking to the closet. There had always been something off about the tiny space. “He’s still a little, um,” You pull back the clothing on your side of the closet. “tied up.” You say the last bit quietly. There had always been that thin line on your side. It was the only thing you can think of really. “Alright,” Ubbe says, “I’ll leave you guys to it. Tell him to call me when you’re done.”

“I will pass along the message.” You assure him. And hang up. Why you had fixated on this tiny little line, you had no idea. It couldn’t be the place of the safe, it just couldn’t. You run your finger along the line. Working your bottom lip again, you press on either side of the line, jumping when a section of wall pops open. You stare at it, open mouthed. Then doubled over in laughter. You can’t help it, your day just turned form very normal to terrifying to utter ridiculousness in seconds flat. “What the fuck is this?” You say to yourself. “A fucking spy movie?”

            You open the wall panel to see the safe. It’s a new styled one, no knob to turn, just number to punch in. You’re terrified for a moment that you’ll need Ivar’s thumb print, but you begin to punch in numbers. You cycle through everyone’s birthday. Ivar’s, Ubbe’s, Aslaug’s, you even try Bjorn and Sigurd’s birthdays. If you weren’t the one constantly reminded Ivar about presents, you’d feel strange about knowing them all.

            You huff and put your hands on your hips. You honestly don’t know what to do next. You start putting in anniversaries. His parents, Ubbe’s and Margrethe’s. Still nothing. You try to think of what Ivar could’ve possibly put into the safe. On a whim you punch in the day you met him. The only reason you remembered the date was because it had been one hell of an evening.

            Your friend had invited you to a party for Halloween. You ended up having a very drunk one night stand with Ivar.  You punch the date in, mouth dropping when the safe clicks open. You swing the door wide and look inside. It’s just a stack of papers. You snatch the folder and rush from the room. Looking at the clock you see that it’s nowhere near the time you need to meet Aaron. You pace, thinking about what you could do to help Ivar. Logic told you to call Ubbe, but you weren’t thinking logically.

            As you pace, a plan begins to take root. The rational part of your brain screams at you not to do it, this isn’t like the movies. You’re going to get yourself killed, worse, you’re going to get Ivar killed. You push that little niggling thought out of your mind. You had to try something or else you’d go crazy. No matter what way you turned it in your head, something was going to happen to Ivar, and it was going to be your fault.  


	9. Saved

Ivar always told you that the first thing to remember when trying to do business was to dress the part. First impressions were everything. That’s why you had gone to this meeting in your best dress. Ivar had just bought it for you, you figured now was as good a time as any to wear it. You resisted the urge to fidget. You had to be like Ivar, calm, controlled, and maybe a little angry, even if your heart was about to burst from your chest. Dressing up helped a little, made you feel enough of a false sense of confidence not to shake.

            Standing in the parking lot, you were happy this was taking place in broad daylight. It gave you an excuse to wear sunglasses. Your friends always told you you’d have the best poker face if not for your eyes. They gave everything away, not just when you were lying. It was a damn crime in your opinion.  

            You didn’t have to wait long for Aaron to show up. A trail of cars circle you, kicking up a dust trail. You brush some off your dress. It’s not necessary, but you need something to do, and clasping your hands in a white knuckled grip might just give away how nervous you are.

            As the dust settles, a man you assume to be Aaron comes out of the foremost car. A few thugs follow him. Two of them have Ivar dangling between them. He’s in bad shape. Bruises have bloomed across his face, and there’s a scary amount of blood on his shirt. Currently, he’s unconscious, head lolling forward. You resist the urge to run over and check on him. The man leading the group rushes to you, holding out his hand. “Hello!” he says cheerily. “Oh, you must be Ivar’s woman, I’m Aaron.”

“Hello Aaron,” You say politely, managing to give him a smile. “It’s good to meet you.” His smile is wide as he returns the sentiment. “Here we are.” He says, motioning around him. “Here we are.” You repeat, keeping your gaze locked onto his form. He’s a small man, about a head shorter than you, and skinny as a rail. He’s also wearing his best suit, and sunglasses. Did he hav the same confidence problem as you did?

You both stand awkwardly, unwilling to be the first to budge. “Did you what I asked you?” He finally asks, impatient. “Oh yes,” You tell him, surprised how steady your voice sounds. Your insides are damn near liquefied thanks to nerves. “But first, you’re going to get Ivar into my car.” Aaron chuckles and looks back at his men, a few of them chuckle as well. He turns back to you, “Miss-”

“Ivar is to be placed into my car,” You reiterate. “Then I will retrieve the suitcase full of papers from the trunk.” Aaron’s smile falters. “It seems you’ve done this before.” He says. You give him a gentle smile. “First time actually.”

“Truly?”  He gasped, clutching at his heart. He’s having way too much fun with this. You nod. “Truly.”

“I’m honored to be your first.” You force a chuckle. Aaron decides to humor you and motions for his men to do as you ask. You aren’t stupid, you know for a fact the clock was ticking. The moment you handed over those papers was the moment your life was forfeit. Only when Ivar is safely in the back seat, the car door close, do you walk over to the trunk. Aaron follows you. Out of the corner of your eye, you see more men come from the car, the metal of their guns glint in the sunlight.  

            You fight the panic rising in your chest and orient yourself in a way that gives you to best chance of survival. You’re at the corner of the trunk closest to the driver’s side, the door is still wide open. Aaron is right in the line of fire. There’s no way his goons are stupid enough to shoot, he’d be a casualty for sure. You open the trunk, which was previously popped open because the keys were in the ignition. You wanted to leave nothing to chance, you couldn’t risk death because you were stupid and dropped your keys.   

            Aaron has decided you’re obviously not a threat. He reaches into the trunk to get the suitcase. You thanked your lucky stars at this golden opportunity. Allowing your panic to well within you gives you the strength and the speed you need to flip Aaron into the trunk, then slam it on top of him. The shooting starts almost immediately. Several bullets miss you by mere centimeters. Your luck holds as you run to the driver’s seat.

            Not bothering to shut the door or buckle yourself, you turn the car on, put it in gear, and tear out of the parking lot. The door slams itself shut. The bullets pinging off the car are louder than you expected. You’re so glad you decided to take one of Ivar’s special cars. Bullet proof, fake license place, and a trunk with no release tab.

            You find that it handles well as you come careening around a corner. You take a quick look into the review mirror to see only one car following you so far. You’re confident you can shake it. Turning onto a little used side road, you press the gas pedal all the way to the floor, giving a surprised shout with how fast the car picks up speed. Another quick look in the mirror and you see you’re losing the car behind you. The unfortunate thing was, all the other cars seemed to have joined the chase. You take another side road, then another one quickly after that.

            You cased the area at least two hours before your meeting with Aaron. This last side road will lead to something some of your friends called ‘Junkie’s Row’. It’s was sort of a misnomer. Sure, all kinds of drug addicts looking for their next fix came to Junkie’s Row, but there were big fish mixed with the small as you understood it. One of your high school friends operated on the Row often, and helped you secure an empty house.

            You pull into the last house in the Row and jump out of the car, not even bothering to put it in park. You yank the garage door down in the nick of time, a troop of cars passing right outside. You take a moment to catch your breath, jumping when the car bumps the garage door. The only other sounds in the garage are Aaron pounding away at the trunk’s hood.

            You ignore him and open one of the backseat doors to check on Ivar. You worry your bottom lip as you look over him. The lighting is dim, so you can’t make any acurate guesses as to his condition. All you can tell is that he doesn’t seem to be struggling to breath. You try to shake him awake, calling his name, but to no avail. You give yourself a few moments to sob. He isn’t dead, you tell yourself, that’s victory number one. You aren’t dead, that’s victory number two. Victory number three? You had Aaron. That was your biggest victory of all.

            Your sobs quickly turn to laughter. You pulled this shit off. All by yourself. Granted, you had been severely underestimated, but that had been to your advantage. Listening to Ivar, taking his little anecdotes to heart, it had all paid off. You take out your phone, and dial Ubbe’s number. He answers happily enough. “Hey,” You say, unable to keep the grin off your face. “I need directions.  

*

            Your glee is short lived. You get Ivar safely to his father’s home, which is more like a fortress than anything. He’s rushed off to get much needed medical care, while you’re rushed off to Ragnar’s office. He interrogates you for two hours, asking you question after question. When he’s done, he throws a tantrum. It’d be comical to see someone so old throw such a tantrum if you didn’t know good and well Ragnar could’ve had you killed. You’re one hundred percent certain that if you weren’t Ivar’s girl, you’d be dead in a ditch somewhere.

            His sons are with you, all of them standing on the wall, passing you sympathetic looks. Ubbe is the first one to approach Ragnar. “Father, everything worked out.” He reasons. “Ivar is safe, she brought him back to us.” You were going to tell Ragnar about Aaron, but his tantrum isn’t done. “She let that man have our bank codes!” He roars. “Our warehouse locations, everything. Our entire livelihoods were in that safe. This moronic hooker let them have it all!”

            Unable to take anymore, you stand and slap Ragnar across the face. It isn’t hard, but he isn’t expecting it, so his head snaps to the side. You’re momentarily frightened that he’s going to strangle you, but he merely looks at you, trying to burn you alive with his eyes. “I am not a hooker.” You say. “And I’m not moronic. I knew those papers were important, that’s why I falsified them.” As Ragnar processes your words, Ubbe laughs and brings you into a hug. “See? Everything is more than fine.” He says, giving you a kiss on the cheek. Holding your face in his hands, his eyes sparkling with mischief, he continues, “Ivar should marry you, you’re quiet the woman.”

            You blush, extricating yourself from his hold. “That’s not all.” You say. You straighten yourself, feeling proud. “Through a stroke of pure dumb luck, Aaron is in the trunk of my care, with the false papers. Now, if you’re done being an ass, I’d like to go see Ivar.”

“Come on,” Ubbe says, not bothering to wait for his father’s dismissal. “He’ll be happy to see you.”


	10. What We're Going to Do

            Ivar was in a world of pain. He swore even his hair hurt. The worst of it was his heart. This was the second time you’d been directly involved in his lifestyle. The shootout was bad enough, but now you had taken it upon yourself to help free him. For all intents and purposes, it had been a daringly successful rescue, but a rescue you shouldn’t have had to make. 

            What was worse, Ragnar was now talking to you. God knows what you had to give up to get Ivar back to safety, _and_ you let Aaron go? You were doomed. Ragnar was not going to let anything slide just because you and Ivar were together. There was nothing Ivar could do but lay in his gurney and wait for you.

            He expected you to come in teary eyed like last time. He would comfort you, of course, hold you and tell you everything was ok. He was prepared to wrap his arms around you even though his ribs were screaming at him. You didn’t come in crying. Instead you waltzed in, looking confident. He was amazed at the transformation. He wasn’t looking at his baby girl, he was looking at the woman who was the girlfriend of a prominent gangster.

            You walk over to Aslaug and put your hand on her shoulder. Things had become less antagonistic between you and his mother since you declared you were his girl. Maybe Aslaug had finally accepted that you weren’t just another woman Ivar bought to be on his arm. He was determined to keep you as long as he could. After a brief exchange, Aslaug gets up from her chair, leaving the room. You walk over to his bedside and park your pretty little ass right next to him.

            “Hey,” You say softly, running your fingers through his hair. He takes a moment to enjoy your touch before giving a return greeting. He takes the time to look you over. You don’t look like you just got your ass verbally handed to you by his father. In fact, you looked mighty fine, just gazing at him with all the love in your heart. How can you look like that, going through what you went through on his behalf. “I am so sorry you got caught up in all of this.” He says. “Hush,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him. It’s brief, but it was something he needed. Physical proof you still loved him. “I’ll make Aaron pay,” He continues. “I swear it. I won’t rest until he’s found.”

“Ivar, there’s really no need.” You say, smile getting wider. “There most certainly is a need, you don’t mess with my woman and get away with it. I have people already searching for him.”

“They won’t find anything.” You say with the utmost confidence. “What? Do you doubt me? Really?” he’s a little insulted at how little faith you have in him. “I don’t doubt you for a second. I just happen to know where Aaron is.” Ivar sit up, ignoring the pain in his side. “Where is he?” He growls. Then, he begins to panic. Are you working with Aaron? Have you been working with him all along? Ivar is trying to figure out the most convoluted plot he can come up with. “He’s here.” You tell him. His panic rises. His eyes flicker towards the door. If it came down to it, could Ivar kill you? “He was in the trunk of my car, but I expect your father has moved him for now.”

            Ivar takes a moment to process the information. “How did he get into the trunk of the car?” He asks, amazed. A wicked smile spreads across your face. “I pushed him in.” you say. You puff your chest out in pride. “You?” Ivar starts. You nod. “How did you even manage to get him in position?” he mutters. He’s trying to figure it out in his head. Aaron was a small man, smaller than you, but he was a known powerhouse. You, not so much.

            He didn’t have to puzzle it out for long as you launch into an explanation. He listens intently to you, amazed that you loved him enough to not even hesitate to kidnap someone. By the time you’re done, you’re both grinning at the absolute ridiculousness of it all. “So,” You say, bringing your hands together. “What’s next? We interrogate him right?”

            “What do you mean ‘we’? There is no we.”

“Of course there is,” You say matter-of-factly. “This bastard kidnapped my boyfriend, tried to blackmail me into giving him sensitive papers, and then tried to kill me. I’m not going to be happy until this bastard is dead.” The revelation shocks Ivar. “Don’t get me wrong,” You say quickly, grabbing his hands. “I know I couldn’t pull the trigger, not yet anyway. But I’ve come to terms with all of this a long time ago. I knew there might come a day when I got involved, and well, here I am. Ready to jump into the thick of it.”

            You didn’t think you’d ever seen a more tender look on Ivar’s face in your entire life. He grabs the back of your neck and yanks you into a bruising kiss. It’s all teeth and tongue, clearly if Ivar wasn’t so injured, you’d be at his mercy underneath him. For once, Ivar is the one to pull back. You whimper and chase him, but he stops you. “Focus,” He commands. “This is what we’re going to do.”


	11. Something Beautiful

Ivar was worried about you. This would be your first time seeing what he was truly capable of. He knew you were under no illusions when it came to him. You knew what he did, but knowing and seeing were completely different. Half of him wanted to shield you from this side of him, the other half was excited to show you what he could do with a baseball bat.

            If he showed you this side of him, that meant a great deal would change between you two. He always thought of you as his equal, intelligent, charming, and drop dead gorgeous, you were a perfect match for him. But depending on how you handled his interrogation methods, you’d become something more, you’d become his partner.

            He’d be lying if he didn’t admit that he’d wanted this for some time. Having you work beside him, helping to run the family business, was one of his best well-kept secrets. No one wanted to say it, especially not the old man, but they needed new blood. They were losing their footing in the drug business. Their legitimate businesses were struggling as well. Not to mention all the territory they were losing. They needed fresh eyes and new ideas at the top, and Ivar felt you were just the person.

            He had the utmost confidence you wouldn’t disappoint him. Maybe it was in part because he was trying his hardest to live a fantasy he’d had for years now, but the confidence was still there.

            Your heels were loud on the concrete as you rolled him down the hall. Ivar would prefer to walk, but his current state made it impossible to hold on to crutches. He had explained to you what would happen. He would beat Aaron, maybe break a few bones, maybe put something underneath his fingernails. Whatever it was, it would be violent, and there would be blood. But in the end, you got the adorable look of determination in your eyes and told him you were going to see this out.

            You stopped in front of his father. Ragnar looked critically at you. “I don’t think-”

“I don’t care what you think,” You say, tone flat as possible. “I’m here, and this is happening. Open the door.” You order. Ivar didn’t bother keeping his smile from his face. Ragnar gives you a look filled with curiosity. You were a new entity and he wasn’t sure how to feel about you yet. He nods to the goon standing guard, they immediately snap to attention and unlock the door for them. Without bothering to wait for Ragnar’s go ahead, you roll Ivar into the room.

            Aaron looked a little too happy to see you. “Ah,” He says, giving you a charming smile. “It’s always lovely to see a woman in situations like this.” Ivar watches as you take the seat that had been provided for his father, returning Aaron’s smile. It’s a smile he’d never seen on you, utterly provocative in its innocence. No wonder the man had underestimated you. Ragnar stands behind you, trying to figure out what it was you had in mind. “I assure you Mr. Goldstein, Ivar and Mr. Lothbrok won’t be going easy on you even though I’m here.” You say sweetly.

            Aaron pales and Ivar’s look of jealous turns to one of surprise. “You know my name?” He asks. Your smile only turns sweeter. “Aaron James Goldstein, only son of Martha and Jeremiah Goldstein, three sisters, Sarah, Hannah, and Amelia. You’ve three nephews, and a niece you’re rather close to. You worked as an accountant for a while before you wife-”

“Enough!” Aaron barked, looking panicked. “How did you find all this out?” You cross your legs and lean back in your chair, looking at ease. Ivar feels a stirring of lust in his gut. “I have my ways.” You tell him coyly. “The point is, you’re at an extreme disadvantage.”

“Clearly,” Aaron says, looking defeated. “Now,” You say. “We can go about this a few different ways. Ivar here can beat the hell out of you, and you talk. I can make a few phone calls and have your family ruined, and then you can talk, or, you can talk freely, and you might just live to see your little girl again.”

            Ivar looks up at his father. Ragnar has his face carefully schooled into impassivity, but his blue eyes let the world know he’s impressed. Ivar feels an overwhelming sense of pride mix in with his lust. This wasn’t how this interrogation was supposed to go, but clearly, you had come prepared. Ivar smirks, realizing that the three hours you took to ‘collect yourself’ had been spent finding everything you could about Aaron. Not even Ivar had been able to find out this much.

            Aaron takes a long time in responding to your possibly empty threat. You patiently waited, picking at invisible dirt underneath your nails. A habit you had when you were nervous. Thankfully, it just made you look aloof. “You’re bluffing,” he finally decides. You look at him, brow raised. “Am I?” You ask. “You couldn’t make that call. You’re too nice. There’d be blood on your hands and you wouldn’t be able to sleep at night. You’re playing a losing hand.”

“Oh?”

            Aaron laughs. “Of course, you are! I’ve seen this tactic before!” He says, laughing. “You’ve gotten some information about my family, big deal. You use it to scare me a little in the hopes that I’d talk. But nothing is going to come of it. I’ll take the beating.” He winks at you. Ivar and Ragnar move to the table filled with various torture devices. They begin to inspect the table, and as soon as they have their respective instruments, you speak up. “Wait,” You say.

            Getting out of your chair, you saunter over to Aaron, looking predatory. Ivar is extremely thankful he’s wearing lose clothing, because his jeans would absolutely be tented by now. You whip out your phone and scroll through it. “Samantha Peterson,” You say. “Took her mother’s maiden name after she died to distance herself from you. Blond hair, green eyes, freckles galore. She wants to become an oncologist in honor of her mother’s fight with cancer. Brilliant child I must say.” You flip the phone around and show Aaron the screen. Presumably it’s a picture of his daughter.

            Aaron’s mouth begins to work, little noises coming from the back of his throat. “Mr. Goldstein, I promise you, from the bottom of my heart, I am not playing games.” You pull your phone away from him, and fold your hands behind your back. “I admit, I’m sort of new to this, however, I am as serious as your late wife’s brain cancer. We humans are great at rationalizing our terrible deeds, and I did a hell of a lot of rationalizing. Now, you will tell us what we want to know, and quickly, or I will have your little girl taken, brought here, and tortured in front of you. The choice is yours.”

            If looks could kill, the one Aaron is giving you would turn you to dust. “The clock is ticking Mr. Goldstein.”

“Fine,” He sighs, sitting back in his chair, “What do you want to know?”

*

            Ivar is back in the gurney. You’re in the gurney with him. His back to your chest, you’re running your fingers through his hair, giving intermittent kisses to his head. He’s comfortable, feeling a mix of emotions. He’s incredibly aroused and impressed with how easily you had twisted Aaron, but he was disappointed he didn’t get to personally tear Aaron a new asshole. He was proud of you too.

The women in the Lothbrok family tended to distance themselves from their husband’s work. His mother helped with the accounts from time to time, but otherwise turned a blind eye to her husband’s dealings. Margrethe wanted absolutely nothing to do with any of it. Even Bjorn’s wife, Torvi, simply let the man come and go as he pleased.  But you went in, grabbed the bull by the horns, and rode that damn thing to victory.

“Baby girl?” He mumbles. You grunt to show you’re listening to him. “How did you find all that stuff about Aaron?”

“Called a few people.” You mutter. “Well, obviously,” He says, taking your free hand in his. He kisses it gently, hardly believing you’re his. “But how did you know who to call?” You shift and remain silent for a long time. “I just know people Ivar. I’m a social butterfly, so I have a great deal of acquaintances.”

“But ones willing to give you a bunch of information?”

“Hey, call your police friend that’s not so secretly in love with you crying about how you think your boyfriend is leading a double life and they give you everything you want to know.” Ivar stiffens, pressing another kiss to the palm of your hand. “Don’t worry,” You say. “the man’s a Neanderthal, besides, I know way too many junkies to date him.”

“How many more people do you know?” Ivar is curious. You both kept your separate lives from each other quiet. Ivar realizes that he knows too little about your life outside of your relationship. “Uh, well, I think I know enough to get you whatever you need.” You tell him honestly. “You need prescription pills? Need cocaine? Need someone followed? Hell, you need an order of three hundred cupcakes over night?”

“What would we do with prescription pills?” Ivar grunts. “You’re kidding, right?” You say in disbelief. Ivar twists his neck to look at you. “Good lord, do you guys do everything old school? Prescription pills can sell anywhere from twenty to eighty dollars a pill.” You tell him. “The Oxy’s are the ones that are big sellers. Narcotics, Benzo’s, pseudoephedrine.” You pause, looking at the wall, brows furrowed in concentration. “Pseudoephedrine is harder to get a hold of though, thanks to the meth heads. But I know a few pharmacists and doctors that will get you what you need no problem as long as you give them a cut of the sale.”

Ivar settles back into you, thinking it over. This was exactly what he wanted from you, fresh perspective. A way to branch out. “Plus, I hear there’s a bigger market for pharm drugs, people think it’s safer than the street stuff, so I think we can make a killing if you want to try it out.”

Ivar works his bottom lip. “We’ll bring it up in the next family meeting.” He assures you. “Meanwhile, do you have any other ideas?” You immediately start listing off the ideas that have been rattling around in your head. Ivar listens, mostly quiet, asking questions only when he wanted to figure out how your plans would work exactly. When you’re done presenting your ideas, Ivar smiles. “Baby girl,” he says, “This is the beginning of something beautiful.”


	12. Check In

            Ivar watched with no small amount of pride in his chest as you led the meeting. You’re wearing everything he bought you. The dress, the shoes, even the jewelry. Ivar is surer than ever that you belong by his side, wreaking havoc in the seedy underground of Kattegat.

Ragnar had allotted you a very small bit of territory to do with what you wanted. In the Lothbrok family it was called the ‘starter territory’. It was a rough patch of lawlessness not even Ivar himself could tame. Admittedly, no one had tried too hard to do anything with it. Pass or fail, the boys had a guaranteed spot in the family, you were on trial. You had been working on it for months.

            When you’re done updating everyone, you place the black briefcase on the table. “One last thing,” You open the case and turn it for everyone to see. It’s filled with cash. “Everyone is now currently caught up on their debts or they’re catching up as we speak. I think everyone will be settled within the next week.”

            Without saying anything, Floki reaches across the table to drag the case to him. Lifting out the cash, bit by bit, he begins to giggle. “It’s all here!” He says. “Ragnar, it’s really all here. Perfectly labeled and everything.”

“Well,” you shrug. “almost all of it. Like I said, some are still playing catch up.” Ragnar looks at you, clearly impressed. “And if everyone isn’t caught up?” He asks. “Then I start breaking more than kneecaps.” You tell him plainly. As you take a seat, the meeting continues, there’s a strange glimmer in Ragnar’s eye.

            Ivar can’t be bothered to pay attention, he’s too busy lusting after you. Lewd images of what he wants to do with you pass through his mind. You swallow his cock with your hands tied behind your back. Your underneath him, screaming his name, ass red with his handprints. He just beginning to decide on whether or not to start it all in the limo when Ragnar dismisses everyone. “Except you,” The old man says, eyes dancing as he looks at you. Ivar tries to catch your eye, but you’re too intent on holding Ragnar’s gaze.

*

            You’re alone with Ragnar, who’s seated at the head of the table. “I want to know how you managed to get everyone to pay their debts.” He asks in a soft tone. “Well, I started by chasing all the drug dealers away.” He leans in close to you, trying to figure out your strategy “That was you, with the cops?”

“Yes, sir.” You say, not wanting to be alone with him. Ivar and his brothers had told you stories about Ragnar’s seemingly insatiable appetites. Right now, the old man looked as though he wanted to eat you up. “So, the cops chased off the drug dealers, then what?”

“Then I placed my own dealers.” You explain. “Once everyone started buy from my dealers, I told them to stop selling to specific people. Made sure my dealers had enough goons to be safe enough to stop their dealing. When everyone started getting upset, I told them they either paid up, or they got out. Of course, I had to crack open a few heads to get the message across.”

            “And what do you plan on doing now?”

“There’s more money I can squeeze out of those fools I’m sure.” You say, not trusting the look Ragnar is giving you. “I don’t think they’d like you taking so much of their money.” You snort. “You don’t know what I have planned.”

“Enlighten me.”

“No.” Ragnar gives you a steady gaze. “Why not?”

“A magician never reveals their tricks.” You say. In truth, you don’t trust Ragnar. You never had really, but until now, you never needed to be concerned with trust. The old man suddenly gets up from his seat and walks over to you. You remain sitting, trying your best not to panic. Ivar told you never to show fear to his family, it’s the quickest way to earn their respect. But you’re new to crime, so it’s hard for you to fight instinct.

            Ragnar sits on the table close to you, and drags a finger across your jaw. “My sons generally have bad taste in women.” He informs you. “Especially Ivar. But I’m glad to see he’s gotten his act together.” He considers your face for a long moment before his hand is back at his side. “What is Ivar paying you?”

“What?”

“I’ll double it.”

“Mr. Lothbrok!”

“Triple it.” You get up from your seat and slap Ragnar as hard as you can. “I’m not a whore!” You hiss. “Then why is Ivar paying you?” Ragnar says, rolling his jaw. You slap him again. There’s one terrible moment when you think he’s going to back hand you, but he remains sitting, and infuriating smile on his face. “I was a sugar baby, I’ll admit, but I was never a whore. Besides, Ivar stopped paying me a long time ago.”

            Ragnar grabs your shoulders. “I can get you whatever you want,” He continues. “Clothing, jewelry, vacations.”

“What I want, Mr. Lothbrok,” You growl, “is to leave.” You rip yourself from his grasp and rush from the room. As you pass the kitchen, you don’t stop to talk to the brothers, or to Aslaug, with whom you’ve become increasingly close to. You find Ivar waiting by the limo, a smug smile on his face. Without thinking, you rush to throw your arms around him and give him a passionate kiss. When you pull back, his smile has grown. “What was that for?”

“I just,” you start to tell him the truth. His father creeped you out, coming on to you rather harshly despite being a married man three times your age. “I just really want you.” You tell him, placing another, softer, kiss to his lips. With that, he practically shoves you into the limo. Ivar barks at the driver to get you home as fast as they can. “No,” you say giggling. Opening the divider between you and the driver. “Take us to the hotel,” You instruct, squealing when Ivar growls and throws himself at you. “It’s closer,” you say, as he closes the window for you.

            This isn’t the first time you’ve fucked Ivar in the back of his limo, and to be honest, it probably isn’t going to be the last time either. Ivar hikes the hem of your dress up, squeezing the tops of your thighs. You groan as he latches on to your pulse points and gives a hard suck. “you were amazing today.” He praises. “I wanted to fuck you the very minute you started speaking.”

            “Ivar,” you whine, rolling your hips into his. You feel his cock straining against his pants. “Don’t be naughty.” He tells you. He slips his hand closer to the seat of your panties. “We’ll be at the hotel in minutes.” You say. “Either you make me come quickly, or you wait like a good boy.” Ivar immediately pulls back from you. He’s frowning, trying to figure out what role you want him to play today. “Do you want me to wait like a good boy?” He whispers. You shake your head. He gives you a smile, “No? Was my baby girl trying to be bad again?” You play with the lapels of his suit. Ivar always dressed up for family meetings. “Maybe,” You tease. “You know,” He says, leaning down to capture your lips. Just before they meet, he stops. “Bad girls get punished.”

            You whimper as he grinds his hips into yours. “But then, you’re a little slut for punishment, aren’t you baby girl?”

“Yes,” you moan. He chuckles. “You just can wait for my hands to be all over your ass, can you?” He begins his assault on your neck a new, biting down hard. He takes a breast and swipes his thumb over a clothed nipple. You make a noise not entirely human and claw at his chest. “Too many clothes.” You whisper. Ivar rights himself in the seat as the limo slows to a stop. “Ivar?” You ask, wondering what you did wrong. He’s simply looking at you, lust having swallowed all the blue in his eyes. “You aren’t giving the orders baby girl.” He says. “I am.”

“Yes sir.” You whisper, sitting up. “But you know how much I love you naked.” You try to press yourself against him, but he stops you with a hand on you neck. “We’ll get to that,” He promises. “We just have to check in first.”


	13. Lesson

The hotel is one you’re familiar with. Ivar paid a great deal of money to keep the room available to him at all times. When you first started your relationship, you used the room frequently, more as a way to keep things discreet, but now, you barely stepped into it. It’s was a luxurious hotel, catering to the rich and famous. When you first stepped inside, you had felt out of place, now, it felt like coming home.

            You couldn’t remember the last time you were here, it didn’t matter, things hadn’t changed. The moment the door to your room is open, Ivar is giving orders. “Take of all your clothes,” He says, voice hoarse. “And get in your chair.” You kick off your shoes, letting out a giggle in the meanwhile. You’re just beginning to unzip you’re dress when you get an idea.

            You turn to him, smiling sweetly. He doesn’t notice you at first, he’s busy undoing his braces. Eventually, he takes notice of your lack of activity. Looking at you, he takes a tone of warning, “Baby girl,” He doesn’t like being disobeyed. You simply continue to smile.

            He watches you as you unzip your dress, going agonizingly slow. Before it drops off your shoulders you turn from him. The turn is more for your benefit than his. As with most of the things you do for the first time, you felt awkward. You didn’t want to look at him and lose your nerve.

            Sliding the straps down your shoulders, you stop the dress at your waist in favor of taking off your bra. This you do quickly in favor of turning to toss it to him. You watch as it sails through the air. He catches it without looking. You bite your bottom lip trying not to giggle. Your nerves are getting to you, but the heated look Ivar is wearing tells you all you need to know. He’s enjoying every moment of your tease.

            You finally turn your attention back to your dress, making sure to wiggle your hips and bend over as it slides down. Thanks to the complete quiet in the room, you can hear Ivar’s deep inhale, followed by a slow exhale. You pretend like he isn’t there, and walk over to the vanity. Taking the pins out of your hair is the only thing you can think of to prolong your tease.

            Instead of sitting on the little stool in front of the vanity, you bend again, making a show of your ass, shifting from foot to foot. You take the pins out, one by agonizing one. When you’re finished you fluff out your hair and turn back to Ivar. He looks relaxed to you, but you see the obvious tent in his pants. Your bra is twisted in his hands with a death grip. “Ivar,” You say, sounding concerned. “Are you alright? You’re looking a little tense.”

“Come here.” He orders. You saunter over to him, anticipating what he’s going to do. You can tell by the look on his face that you’re in for it tonight. “Finish undressing, and this time, do it quickly.” You follow orders and get rid of your panties, tossing them somewhere in the room. Ivar takes his time to look over you, bringing up a hand to run lightly over your skin. You shiver as he makes a trail from the valley of your breasts downwards. “Baby girl,” He whispers. “You’ve been acting out lately, I don’t think I appreciate it.”

“I was doing what you told me,” you defended. “I was getting undressed.”

“What you’re doing,” he growls, “Is playing with fire.”

“But-” he cuts you off. “On your knees.” You slip onto the ground without hesitation. “You’re talking back to me now.” He tsked. “you’re getting bold, we’re going to have to do something about this.” He takes your chin in his hand, running his thumb along your bottom lip. You flick your tongue out to taste it. He closes his eye for a moment and takes another deep breath. “I’m going to start with lesson one,” He decides. “I’m going to wash that mouth out.” You wince. “Ivar,” you say, breaking the role quickly. “I’m not putting soap in my mouth.” He opens his eyes, smiling wickedly. “I never said I was going to use to soap.” He looks down at the tent in his pants.

            You let out a whimper, finally getting his meaning. “You aren’t going to touch me,” He instructs. “Just your mouth only, if you touch me, you will not get your release tonight, am I clear?”

“Yes Ivar,” You whisper, eager to get on with it. He undoes his pants and slips them down far enough that you have access to his cock. Holding it straight for you, he looks at you expectantly. You don’t hesitate to bring your mouth forward. Giving him one long, slow lick, you shiver as his moan reaches you.

            You know better than to play with him for too long. You pop the head into your mouth, sucking lightly. Ivar bucks his hips, groaning. As you work your way down his cock, taking in as much as you can, Ivar slips his fingers through your hair. “That’s it baby girl,” He encourages. “You know just how to please me don’t you?”

            Your strip tease must have gotten him more worked up than you thought., you can barely enjoy worshiping his cock before he’s coming into your mouth. “Swallow it,” He demands, before you can pull away. You obey, drinking up all you can. When you’re done, you release him with a pop. “Go to the drawer and get your rope and blindfold.” He says, sounding pleased. You do as he asks.

            When Ivar is in control, he better enjoys it when you’re a silent follower. He wasn’t one for pet names unless you were praising him, and that was a completely different scenario than the one you’re in now. You grab the items and scurry back, holding them out for him to take. Without a word, you turn and put your hands behind your back. “Look at my baby girl,” Ivar coos, winding the rope around your wrists. “So eager to please me.” One the ropes are secure, you kneel again so Ivar can put the blindfold on. Without his braces, he wouldn’t be able to stand to do it.

            When Ivar is finished with you, he puts his hands on your shoulders and kisses your hair. “Tonight, is going to be a long night for you,” He mutters. You shiver in anticipation. “Go lay on the bed,” You get up and lay face first on the bed. It’s the position Ivar usually enjoys you in.

            You can hear Ivar walk about the room slowly, leaning on surfaces to get where he’s going. “Now that we’ve washed your mouth out, I think it’s time I remind you that I’m the one in control.” He tells you. He’s opening drawers and sifting through them. Your cunt is already soaked from the all too short blowjob, but now it’s positively aching for what he has planned next. Ivar’s lessons and punishments were delicious.

            Finally, you feel the bed sink with Ivar’s weight. He runs a hand over your right ass cheek, and you whimper. “Oh, I know baby girl,” he tells you. “I know you enjoy your spankings but you won’t be getting any tonight.”

“Why not?” You whine. Ivar chuckles. “Because, you love them too much. Tonight, it’s not about giving you what you love, it’s about reminding you who’s in charge.”

            His hand leaves your skin, only to be replaced by some cold liquid. You jump in surprise. If that’s what you think it is, it’s going to be a very frustrating night for you. He rubs the oil into your ass, eventually spreading your cheeks. “No, Ivar,” You whimper, as he applies more oil in between them. “You don’t have a choice in this,” He tells you, running a finger along your hole. You begin to wriggle. “Please, no, not this.” You say. You hate this particular form of torture, and Ivar knows it. He stops, waiting for your safe word.

            You think about uttering it, think about ending this right now and just have him take you, but you know better. The moment when Ivar takes you, hours after he’s tortured you, is the best moment. He’s riled up, and you’re sensitive, it’s a visceral moment you never want to give up.

            Realizing that you’re apparently ready to accept your punishment, Ivar continues, pressing something against your asshole. “You know the drill baby girl, relax.” He leans next to you and kisses your shoulder. You do as he asks and try to relax as much as you can. Ivar pressed the vibrator into you, going slowly. You whimper when it’s fully inserted. “I know love,” he coos, “I know you hate this, and I hate doing it to you, but the lesson must be learned.” He places another kiss on your shoulder. “Roll over and spread.”

            You don’t hesitate, spreading your legs for him. He shifts in the bed, groaning. “Look at you little one,” He says. “So ready for me, so willing.” He takes time to admire you, before slipping something around your thighs. It’s that goddamned butterfly, you know it. You want to cry already with frustration, but you know it will do you no good. So, you take it like a woman.

            Once Ivar is done with you, he pulls away, leaving you cold. You rub your thighs together, trying to ease some of the pressure you’re feeling. No such luck, it just reminds you of the position you’re in. You jump and scream when both vibrators turn on full force. “Ivar, what the hell?” You gasp, already writhing. “Oh, didn’t I tell you?” He says, sounding pleased with himself at this new torture. “I’m going to give you exactly what you want,”

“T-that’s the exact opposite of a punishment,” You say, throwing your head back in pleasure. Your orgasm is approaching with speed. “I’m not punishing you, I’m teaching you a lesson. After this, I guarantee you’ll remember who’s in control.”

            After that, the only noises in the rooms are the ones you make. You’re breathing heavily, moaning out Ivar’s name over and over, wishing he’d just touch you. Your first orgasm of the night rips a scream from you. You can’t help but buck your hips against the air as your legs shake with force. You hear Ivar chuckled at your reaction.

            “It’s too bad you can’t use that mouth of yours on my cock,” Ivar says. You try to focus on his words, but he hasn’t turn down the vibrators, and you’re reeling from your own pleasure. “I-if you untie me, I can take care of you,” You manage. At this, Ivar laughs but doesn’t say anything.

            It takes a while for your second orgasm to begin to build up. “That’s right,” Ivar says, watching you begin your writhing anew. “Do you know what I’m doing right now, baby girl?” He asks. “You’re tortur-ah, oh God-you’re torturing me.”

“No, I’m touching myself.” He corrects you. “Long, slow strokes, thumb circling the tip before I move back down. It gives me so much pleasure to see you at my mercy.” You cry out again. “Yes, that’s it love, come for me once more.” You’re already in the throes of a second orgasm before he’s even done with the sentence. This time, you throw out a string of curses at him. You only hear him grunt with his own release.

            Ivar continues to torture you, giving you orgasm after orgasm. You lose yourself in the sensations. When you finally cry out that you can’t take anymore, he turns them off and begins to untie your restraints. You lay there as he fixes you, treating you gently, praising you softly. “You did so good baby girl, taking my lesson the way you did.” He takes off your blindfold last, giving you a lingering kiss. Putting everything away, he gives you a long moment to collect yourself.

            You’re a sticky mess, the sheets underneath you wet with your pleasure. Your hair is plastered to your face and every tiny move has you shuddering. As enjoyable as that was, you didn’t want to go through it again, Ivar’s lessons seemed to be crueler than his punishments.

            You crack open an eye when he leans over you. “Can you take one more?” He asks, smiling down at you. “Always,” You say, bringing your hands to his face. He presses his body into you, kissing you gently. His shirt is long gone, but his pants were still on. He took care of those quickly.

            Ivar presses into you with ease. Nothing will ever feel like him. Fulfilling and warm, loving, everything else will leave you empty and wanting. He’s too thorough with you. Kissing you, thrusting into you slowly, gently, knowing your cunt has been abused and is oversensitive to every little touch. You have no energy to respond to him enthusiastically, but Ivar doesn’t mind. It’s being inside you, being close to you, that’s important.

            Ivar doesn’t rub your clit like he wants to, he understands it would hurt if he did. As a result, it takes you a while to reach your final orgasm. When you do, there’s no bucking of hips, or screaming. It’s a tightening of your walls around his cock and a whimper as you weakly grasp at his shoulders. Ivar grunts as he comes shortly after you. He pulls away from you, looking at you sternly. “I hope we don’t have to repeat this lesson love,” He says, moving your damp hair from your face. You giggle weakly. “You know me,” You say. “It takes two or three times before the lessons stick.”


	14. Work To Do

            Ever since Ragnar came onto you, you took to leaving family meetings early. You weren’t considered essential enough to have to stay through entire meeting. It was a godsend for you, allowing you to escape anymore awkward moments with Ragnar.

            You wander into the kitchen for a drink, trying to figure out your next move. You needed men in the local police force, yet, every goon you talked to was vehemently against the idea. You could take a considerable risk and approach a police officer yourself. You pushed those thoughts aside, before you could even truly begin planning a police force takeover, you had one other project to focus on. If it was successful, which you no doubt knew it would be, it would rake in cash and attention in your little slice of hell, allowing you to make many much-needed changes.

            You were so lost in thought, you didn’t hear Aslaug enter the kitchen, despite the clicking noise her heels made. It was only when she called your name you were yanked out of your reverie. Whipping around, you clutch at your chest. “Mrs. Lothbrok,” you breathed. “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” She said. “No, no, this is your home, I just didn’t expect you to appear behind me is all.” She gives you one of her placating smiles.

“I confess, I sought you out.” You gulp, had Ragnar told Aslaug about his proposition weeks earlier? Was she going to threaten you? Challenge you? Bargain with you? None of the images running through your mind were pleasant. “For what?” You ask, trying to be casual. She reaches her arm out to you, beckoning you to follow her. Figuring you could take the older woman if you absolutely had to, you walk around the kitchen island and take hold of her arm.

“You’ve been doing very well for yourself,” Aslaug begins, leading you down a hall. “I’m impressed, as is Ivar.” You let out a small smile, but remain silent. You must figure out her game. “I must confess, when Ivar first introduced you to the family, I was very suspicious. My son has a soft heart underneath all that anger. He falls in love so easily. But I am happy I was wrong about you.”

            You give a soft grunt to indicate you’re listening. Aslaug leads you from the living room out onto the back porch. On a table is a bottle of wine and two glasses. She lets go of you to pull out your chair. You mumble a small ‘thank you’ as you sit. Aslaug takes her own seat and stares off into space. The Lothbrok’s backyard is a large expanse of trees and grass. No doubt the brothers played there when they were younger, spending their teens tossing around a ball, wrestling. You briefly wonder what Ivar looked like when he was younger.

“I’ll be plain,” Aslaug says, pouring the wine, she hands you a cup, as you reach for it she says, “I want grandchildren.” You freeze just as your fingertips touch the glass. Aslaug is still wearing her smile, looking as though she hadn’t brought up a profound subject. “Margrethe has been very disappointing in that aspect, and she is beyond childbearing age. But you, you are young with many years ahead of you.”

“I’m sorry,” You say, taking the glass. “But this is a conversation between Ivar and I, you shouldn’t even be taking to me about this.” Aslaug nods. “I understand, but I broached the subject with you, because Ivar will not.” Taking a sip of wine, you mull over her words. “Why won’t Ivar talk to me about it?”

“He is afraid you will reject his wishes.”

“Of course he is,” you mutter. You and Aslaug sit in silence for a long time before she speaks again. “Ivar has dreamed of a family of his own for many years. Did you know?”

“I didn’t, we avoid the subject as much as possible.” Come to think of it, there had been a pregnancy scare early on in your agreement. Ivar had been calm throughout the entire thing. You, however, freaked out. It wasn’t the reaction you had expected in all honesty. Was Aslaug telling you the truth, or was she playing her own game? “Nevertheless,” You say, before she could continue trying to convince you to have children with her son. “I will talk to Ivar about it, and proceed from there. But I thank you, for letting me know of his wishes.” You down the wine, place the cup on the table none too gently, and get up from your seat. You don’t bother telling her goodbye.

            The question now wasn’t ‘Did Ivar want children?’ it was ‘Did you want children?’ You weren’t sure. Granted, your life had not ended up the way you thought it would. You wanted to be a career woman, making your own money. Technically, you were, the career you had chosen just so happened to be criminal. Children had only ever crossed your mind when you were at family reunions, when your aunties all ganged up on you and asked you when you were going to settle down. You had told no one about how serious you and Ivar were. You didn’t want the kind of judgement form your relatives.

            At this point in your life, you still had years to have children, if had never been a factor for you. You didn’t hate kids, you just never thought about them. It was hard for you to imagine Ivar wanting children. He always called them ‘screaming little demons’. You supposed it was different when you had a child of your own.

            Ivar is not quiet like Aslaug, so he can’t sneak up on you. You hear the familiar stomp-tap of his gait and watch him round a corner. “There you are,” He says. He doesn’t give you a smile, which means something is weighing heavily on him. “Come, we have work to do.”


	15. Questions

  Ivar doesn’t care that the men can see you fuss over him, scrubbing the blood off his face with a napkin wet with water from a bottle. He loves it, loves knowing that they know who you belong to. Loves the attention. “At least you didn’t get it in your hair this time,” You mutter, brushing it back from his face.

           Ivar bends down to give you a lingering kiss. “You take such good care of me,” He says. You chuckle, and throw the towel to the side. “What say you and I get out of here and go home? The rest of the guys can handle to clean up.” His hand reaches down to squeezes an ass cheek. You squeal and giggle. “There’s something I want to show you first.” You tell him. He raises an eyebrow but follows you out of the warehouse.

           He doesn’t say anything until you’re in the car and on the road. “is this about your secret project?” He asks you, more than a little curious. You smile, “Yes,” You confirm. It had been months of work, long nights away from each other, unbelievable amounts of stress for you to meet your deadline. He was as excited to see your work as you were to show it off.

           You pull right up to the door of your building. The sign was still covered and the windows boarded up giving no indication as to what it was. “Wasn’t this the old grocery store?” He muttered. “Yup!” You tell him, hopping out of the car. He follows you, not sure what you had done with a grocery store. A million ideas are running through his head. When he opens it and sees the inside, he has to take a moment. Turning the store into a strip club was not what he thought you’d ever do.

           “Well?” You ask him, turning on the lights so he can get a better look. His jaw drops. This isn’t a sleezy strip club you duck into for some fun. This is professional. Nice velvet seating, no less than five stages, a bar. He can do nothing but whistle. “So this is where the loan money went to.” He says. You had asked him for a large sum a while back, promising to repay him. He didn’t think anything of it, since he’d been renting your house for you and buying outfits and jewelry that cost small fortunes. “What do you think?” You ask, eager for opinions. He walks further inside, scrutinizing every last detail. “I think you’re going to make a killing.” He admits, jealous he hadn’t thought of this when he was running this small territory.  

           He feels you walk up beside him and loop and arm around his waist. “I also think you’re going to have to explain to my father why you decided to build a strip club.”

“Legitimate business,” You tell him. Ivar frowns. “Look, let’s be honest, your dad has been struggling for some time now to squeeze as much money out of people as he could, pushing drugs just isn’t cutting it anymore. Besides, what happens in the next big Drug Bust?”

           “I should’ve let you get involved much sooner.” Ivar mumbles, bending down to kiss you. You giggle and wrap your arms around his neck to return it. Before you can really get into the kiss he pulls back from you, grinning wickedly. “Is anyone else here but us?”

“No, no one arrives until tomorrow for the opening, why?” His grin only turns more wicked. “I was wondering if I could get a private show.” You can’t help but laugh. Still, you place a hand on his chest and push him towards a chair. “Try not to blow your load before I get to you,” you tell him. His laughter follows you to the back room.

           This isn’t anything you haven’t done for Ivar before. Well, alright, you’ve never actually danced on a pole before, but giving Ivar a strip tease to music was something you did that he frequently enjoyed. You turn on the usual song, setting the volume rather low for a club. There’s no shame as you walk out onto the stage, it’s just you and Ivar, in a big room.

           The only issue you have is the conversation you’ve had with Aslaug rattling around in your head space. Swinging your hips and turning for Ivar you catch the hungry look in his eye. Did he really want a baby? You start on your buttons, throwing a coy smile over your shoulder. Do you want a baby? It would tie you and Ivar together for life. The shirt goes over your head with flair. Aren’t you already tied together to Ivar for life?

           No, you think, working on your pants. No, there’s no ring on my finger. You face him and give him a hip wiggle. He looks mighty please with the show. Turning back around, you step out of your shoes. Did you need a ring on your finger to be with Ivar? Did you want a ring? You slide your pants down your thighs, outright laughing at Ivar’s wolf whistle. He isn’t the type to get married, is he? You can’t help but question.

           In the years you’ve known Ivar, he’s surprised you by showing you remarkable vulnerability. He’s a man of great depth, it’s entirely possible he wants a family, a wedding, a white picket fence. The real question is, why hasn’t he ever brought it up? Is it the same reason he felt he needed a sugar baby in the first place? Was he afraid you’d reject the idea outright?

           “Come here,” Ivar barks, cutting through your thought process. You turn to him, automatically strutting towards his chair. In the gloom of the club you can see him fuddling with his pants, no doubt trying to get his cock out. You jump off the stage to sit on his lap. “Daddy called for me?” You coo, knowing where this is going. He fists his hand in your hair and brings you down for a searing kiss. Its more teeth than tongue, rough, needy. He doesn’t bother with the foreplay, instead, shoves the seat of your panties aside and thrust up. You both groan with the intrusion.

           You put your hands on his shoulders, taking charge. This isn’t soft and gentle love making, this is out and out fucking. The grunts coming from you both are reminiscent of animals, but you couldn’t care. Ivar’s hands on your hips, bruising your skin, it’s enough to wipe away all the doubts you have about him, for now.

           You press your forehead to his, orgasm building quickly. “Shit, Ivar,”

“Sh, I know, love, I know.” He says. You let go of his shoulders and brace yourself on his knees, leaning back as far as you dare. The new position gives you new sensations. Unfortunately, you can’t enjoy it for long before your climax tears through you. Like the sex, it’s a short climax, though intense it ultimately leaves you unsatisfied. When you come back to earth, you’re shocked to see Ivar is still hard, not having cum yet. “Let’s go home,” You tell him, giving him a quick kiss. “So I can fuck daddy properly.”


End file.
